Weightless
by panicpeachpit
Summary: Multi-chap. A story of childhood, love and nostalgia. After witnessing his parent fall apart, Ethan promised himself he wouldn't be the same. But, one day, he stops eating - and he grows fixated on trying to reach a goal that only destroys him further. The past he's trying to leave ends up his obsession. Meanwhile, Cal has found love; and it's slipping through his fingers.
1. Prologue

**Weightless - Prologue**

Ethan could recall, when he was a child, that his Mother dieted often.

It was obvious that she was consumed by it. It was a compulsion that she clung to - something that was unwilling to let go of. He was a witness as she declined slowly throughout his childhood. It never made sense to him. He assumed it was because she didn't want to get 'huge'. It took him a long time to realize that wasn't all it was. Coping mechanisms come in all shapes and sizes.

Perhaps it was his Father's fault. But how could it be? He was never home - he was a doctor, so he worked long shifts - but he didn't want to be either. It's like he made destruction without being there. Maybe that's the point. If he just cut the ties with his family and left them then it wouldn't have been so painful. They could've moved on. There's no moving on over someone when they keep hanging about, prolonging the inevitable.

Ethan and Cal, his older brother, made a pact to never become like them. To never have their lives so undeniably fucked up. They wanted to be doctors - but not lothario medical men like their Father. And they wanted to be happy - not anti-depressant reliant like their Mother.

They know it's not their parent's fault that they are the way they are. But they didn't want to be carbon copies. They wanted to be whoever the hell they were going to grow into because that must be better. Surely.

 _"Blood pact."_

 _"It's disgusting, Cal," eight-year-old Ethan says. He's got a lisp and a disapproving look on his face that, unknown to him, he'd come to master in the following years._

 _Ten-year-old Cal has a mischevious smile, lit up by the scarce light which creeps in through the curtain gap. They sit together, cross-legged, whilst Cal teases Ethan with a pin. He stops when Ethan tells him to._

 _"It'll hurt!"_

 _"It'll be fine," Cal says reassuringly - having the persuasive charm of his father. "This is so we'll never be like then," ironic, "isn't that what you want?"_

 _Even at a young age, Ethan didn't think you could choose who you grew into. Parents have huge roles in shaping their children. Could they escape being even slightly similar to their parents? But Cal was older - that's two more whole years worth of knowledge - so he decided to agree. Even if it'd hurt._

 _He holds out his hand. "Go on then."_

 _Softly, Cal holds Ethan's wrist and then pricks his thumb with a pin before he can argue. Ethan yelps. Cal does it to himself, screwing his eyes closed, and then they hold their thumbs together. "This is a very serious-" Cal hunts for words that he's heard grown-ups use on television, "-and legally binding blood pact. Myself, Caleb Hardy, and my brother, Ethan Hardy, swear on our lives that we shall grow up into our own people. Never like Mummy and Daddy."_

 _"We swear," Ethan says. He pauses, adds "solemnly," and then feels quite satisfied._

 _They hold their bleeding thumbs together for a bit longer. Then they drop._

 _"Did it work?"_

 _"Dunno," Cal smiles. "We'll have to see what sort of people we become one day."_

Ethan and Cal continued to be close when they were children. Like others, they didn't leave adolescence the same way they went in - they weren't unscathed by the cruelty of growing up. They split and then reconciled. Life was good when Ethan was with Cal; even when it wasn't.

Their pact stayed with them the entirety of their lives, followed with the over-used sentences of "careful, Cal, you're starting to act like our Dad" and "don't say that, you sound like Mum". It caused arguments and a wedge between them sometimes. They always came back in the end, though. Always.

They promised to grow to become different and they did. Happy and healthy. Together, not apart; never splitting like their parents. Ethan was determined, promising himself over and over that he'd never lose control like they did over his life.

But 2016 was the year it started to go wrong. And 2017 was the year Ethan finally spiralled down.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's new years day. There are bright fireworks outside, erupting alongside people's echoing whoops down the street. There are alcohol and fancy dress and celebration but they're having no part of it.

The television lights up the darkness of their flat, shadows of plants painted against beige walls. Everything is smothered by darkness. Nothing of any interest was on the screen, the only visible part of the room. Neither watch it. Ethan and Cal sit together companiably on the sofa of their living room, beer cans in hands, and listened to the noise of celebrations outside. There's a loud smash from outside. Ethan tuts.

Afterwards, there's the sound of drunken singing coming from outside. Ethan can picture it - everyone's bodies joined by their arms, fingers interlaced, singing until their vocal cords are torn, faking optimism toward the new year when all they actually want is an excuse to get intoxicated.

"Sure you don't want to join in?" Ethan asks. "I'm sure there's room for you to sing along too."

Cal chuckles. "There's always next year for all of that fun. Only so many times I can take singing Aud de lang."

"It's only sung once a year, you know."

"Yeah, and I've been alive about thirty," he says. "That's a lot of sing songs."

"I'm sure you weren't doing it since birth!"

"Well, at least since I was a teenager. About fifteen years, I reckon," he nudges Ethan. "So force me out there and it'll be your funeral."

Ethan laughs and Cal smiles with satisfaction. He finishes off his beer whilst Ethan keeps a smile on his face, the aftermath of laughing. There's still singing outside. It's a lot of garbled nonsense. Or maybe it's not and they're just drunk. Cal always manages to get his brother to succumb to beer, despite his grudge against the stuff.

"You know," Cal says, thoughtfully, interrupting the silence. He curls his fingers around his beer can but doesn't speak more.

"What?"

"Most people make resolutions right about now."

Ethan rolls his eyes and pretends to be shocked. Cal smacks him. "Ouch, that hurt!" He leans back on the sofa. "Stop. Yes, I know they do. And your point?"

"Like, we should think of resolutions, shouldn't we?"

"That's unlike you," it really is. Cal is usually the sort of person who goes with the flow and somehow ends up with great consequences to that. No planning. No organization. Just sitting back and enjoying the ride. "I didn't think you'd be interested."

"First time for everything," he says. "I've got one."

Ethan raises an eyebrow. It makes sense now. "Let me guess, you've completed it?" Cal's smirk answers the question. "Ah. It's a cheap way of bragging, is it?" He swallows a mouthful of beer and then asks the inevitable, "go on, then - what is the resolution?"

"To get a girlfriend."

That's not a surprise. Cal is a self-proclaimed womanizer. He claims that he could wink at a woman and they'd fall, swooning at his feet. Sometimes that's true; if they've had a couple drinks, that is, and are on the rebound. There's a lot of people who fall for Cal's charms, especially women - occasionally men, too, not that those relationships ever go anywhere - and he knows it. He's been in bed with half the female population of Holby and he's not shy about that.

It's a new goal to want commitment, though. Cal's idea of commitment is saying that he'll wash the dishes every other day. That's a suffocating promise for him. And he still doesn't do the bloody dishes anyway.

Ethan holds his beer can loosely, watching Cal's face in the darkness. "What's her name, then?"

"Mollie," Cal says, the name rolling off of his tongue lovingly. A little smile pushes his lips. "You'll like her."

"Hmm. Sure I will."

"What's yours, then?"

"I don't know." Ethan shrugs his shoulders. "Not really thought about it. Making a new years resolution always seems like a recipe for failure. Nobody ever completes them and it just puts a downer on the new year because you've started it feeling like a screw-up."

"Choose something achievable, then."

Ethan leans back, deep in thought. "I could try and get promoted," his long-term goal is to become a consultant at the hospital he works in but he'll have to overpass being a senior registrar first. "Take the exams."

"You're clever, Ethan, but everyone fails those exams the first time."

Ethan's face works itself into a disapproving look; the same one he's always had. It hasn't changed. Lowered eyebrows, wrinkled forehead, a deep sigh. "What do you suggest, then?"

It's Cal's turn to shrug. "I dunno," he pauses to think. Ethan takes three sips of his beer can in the time that it takes Cal to come up with something. "Do the obvious. the most predictable of new year resolutions."

"And that is?"

"Losing weight."

Ethan laughs. "Are you trying to tell me something?" This seems like a huge hint. It's not Cal's usual style - if he's going to if he's going to insult his brother, he's not going to be shy about it - but it's stinging all the same.

"No! I mean, Eth, after the other night, I just figured you'd, you know..." Cal's voice fades. Occasionally he has tact.

Ethan is confused until the unpleasant feeling of remembrance pushes the memory back into his brain. Oh. _That_.

Cal had caught Ethan at his worst at three AM; the usual time that a bad mood would set in. It's never good if you're still awake at that time. He'd been crying in the kitchen because he felt "gross and fat" after swimming with colleagues hours prior. Cal had patted him on the head and told him to go to bed, assuming it was a small confidence crisis - it often was with Ethan. He'd, unfortunately, inherited his confidence - or lack thereof - from his Mother. It wasn't something he could control. It wasn't something that presently controlled him either.

Last night, it hadn't been entirely to do with his weight. Ethan can look down at himself and see excess fat that can be lost but it's not enough to make him cry hysterically. It's enough to upset him, to bother him, sure, but not enough for that. Ethan truly didn't know what was wrong last night. He puts it down to overtiredness.

Cal clearly isn't letting it go. He hasn't teased - which, honestly, Ethan had been expecting. It's Cal's speciality. Instead, he'd mentioned it in a quiet voice which indicates concern. That certain Special Voice that Ethan can't stand but has used himself.

Ethan had been ready to forget it, blaming his random insecurities on the late night and overdose of caffeine from a busy shift at work, but Cal doesn't seem as though he'd be forgetting it anytime soon.

"It was just an idea, Ethan." Cal's voice breaks through Ethan's bubble of thought. "I only want to see you happy."

Ethan says only one word. "Mum." It's a single syllable but it means so much.

"You're not like her." Cal reaches forward, pressing his thumb to Ethan's forehead. It makes him smile at least, pushing him away. "Blood pact, remember?"

It was a silly thing they did as kids. Often times they did it. There seemed to be nothing more reliable. Ethan remembers the memory - well, memories - fondly. "I remember that."

Cal ruffles Ethan's hair as he gets up. "Quit worrying. That's my job." Then he strolls to the kitchen, switching the under cupboard lighting on, and fetches himself another beer. Conversation over.

Ethan listens to Cal's noise. It's only the sounds of the fridge opening, closing, then bare feet padding across the floor. A beer can is being opened. There's loud sipping noise from the kitchen. Ethan smiles at the sheer volume of it. Then he frowns. There's still a choice to make.

It's a new years resolution, at least. It's something to achieve. Nobody could make progress in their lives without finding a direction first. This is a direction. A harmless couple of pounds could be lost. Maybe he'd finally have confidence. That could help solve whatever on earth is wrong with him recently.

He'd be fine. He wouldn't get troubled by it, nor over-obsessed. It won't control his life or be an outlet. It's a diet. Nothing more, nothing less.

He speaks before it really sets in that he's going to. "Alright then," Ethan calls to Cal.

"Huh?" Cal re-enters, sitting back beside him with a new beer.

"I'll do it," he says with an unsure smile. "No big deal. It's just a new years resolution, isn't it?"

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **A/N: Hi! Hope you enjoyed this prologue (which I re-wrote in July of 2018 as the 2017 version... oh dear). Before you go, here's a bunch of things which are necessary to know in this story if you plan on reading on! *Also, please read on below if you have a tendency to be triggered by anything*.**

 **1) This is set in an alternate universe - so Cal is alive and they weren't adopted (which means Ethan doesn't have Huntington's disease).**

 **2) This isn't written to bash anyone underweight, overweight, or anything between. Just bear in mind that many of the thoughts in here are poison and irrational in a way so please don't take it to heart.**

 **3) Not ALL of the bad things below happen to Ethan - here are OC's too and other characters. Just thought I'd mention that!**

 ***Trigger warnings* (the won't be mentioned on each chapter for various reasons, sorry, so here they are now): Depressing matter, self-harm, mention of suicide (in brief and deep detail), vomiting, eating problems, child abuse, homophobia, prison, panic attacks, depression, injuries, mention of being sectioned, dieting, drinking, mention of pro-ana/mia, strong language, violence and death mentions. Would not recommend reading if you're under 13, and if you are, heed my warnings for mature content as chapters progress.**

 **Thank you for reading :)**


	2. 1: A Good Start

**InfinityAndOne** : _The backstory was actually an afterthought as I wasn't originally planning to add it in but I'm so happy to hear that it worked! I love how you've understood the meaning behind this story (or rather, this particular chapter) to a T, honestly it makes my day. Ethan is so determined to concentrate on his career, family (consisting of just one person, poor guy), and his happiness, and really doesn't want to get absorbed in dieting. But these things do get out of control, especially when everything else fails and you have nothing else to focus on BUT the one thing you said you wouldn't. Thank you so much for your review and I really hope you continue to enjoy this!_

 **CBloom2:** _Glad you think so! I hope you enjoy the upcoming chapter/s. Thank you for your review!_

 **tracys dream:** _Thank you, I'm flattered you liked it! Thank you for your review and I hope you enjoy this chapter._

 **sweet-as-honey** : _I'm so happy you think it's good and different, one fear was for it to be generic, same-old and something I hadn't written justice, but I'm so happy you don't think it's any of those things. The brothers are different to how they are (or were, before Cal died) in canon presently, and much more like their old selves. If we can't see them like that, we can still write it! Ethan is very vulnerable indeed but he just doesn't see it yet. And to answer your question, there will NOT be any Alicia in it. Perhaps a few snippets but that's it, and there's no romance with her between the brothers. Originally, she was going to play a giant part in it but I cut her out! Very relieved of that choice now. Anyway, thank you for your review!_

 _A/N: Thank you all for the favourites and follows, it makes my day!  
_

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 **1st of January 2017**

It's easy enough.

In complete honesty, Ethan hadn't thought it would be. His thought had been that he'd spend his time, constantly ravenous and sick of water, craving food which he wouldn't be allowed.

But, on this first day of the new year, he feels as though he could conquer the world. And that's a very new feeling.

He's bought a small book. It has a black cover, A5 sized, and is lined inside. Cal had grimaced when he'd seen it for the first time, perhaps haunted by memories of their parents looking a similar book more than their sons, but Ethan loves it.

All in all, this whole New Year's Resolution is playing out effortlessly. Ethan knows that he's on his way to losing the weight; and presently, Ethan can't think of anything else that he would rather focus on. Not exams, not work, not his non-existent love life or social life, none of that. Getting the number on the scales lower would help him prove to himself that he can, in fact, do anything he sets his mind to. He needs that confidence before anything else.

Ethan sighs gladly before putting his black book away, heading to the kitchen, and then making a salad for tea.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **4th of January 2017**

"Dylan, do you mind giving me a second opinion on this?"

Dylan looks as though he minds very much indeed. But perhaps because of duty, he comes over. Or it may just be because he feels almost pity for how confused Ethan looks and wishes to grab the IPad to bonk him over the head with it in a ' _you're not a junior doctor anymore, Nathan, you should stop acting as green as one_ ' sort of fashion.

"What's the problem?" Dylan asks, taking the IPad from Ethan's grasp and looking down at it.

"The patient, a male who is thirty-five, was involved in an RTC. They got away with only scrapes and cuts, but there's something there which is worrying me."

Dylan looks disinterested and the tone of his voice suggests that he most definitely is. "Symptoms?"

"Uh, loss of appetite, abdominal pain which is dull near the navel but sharp when it's in the lower right abdomen, raised temperature…"

Dylan gives Ethan the IPad back and says: "Appendicitis."

Ethan looks at the scan. "Sorry?"

"It's appendicitis, Doctor Hardy. It's easy enough to spot."

With a second look over the scan, Ethan exhales and nods. It's obvious now. "Of course. I'm sorry, Dylan, I-"

"You're not on the ball today Nathan, are you?" Dylan says. "Well, it's not the first time. It still hasn't escaped my mind that you suspected cancer on a patient who was actually suffering with a common cold."

Ethan feels himself flush with utter embarassment and shame. "Well, technically-"

"No harm done this time, Doctor Hardy. My office door is open if you need more second opinions, I'll be in there doing paperwork," Dylan begins to walk away from Ethan before turning back to say: "Try not to kill anyone while I'm gone."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **6th of January 2017**

"I was thinking-"

Ethan interrupts Cal to deliver his usual line, putting _that_ notebook down on the kitchen counter and leaning his elbow on it. "Oh, God, always a dangerous pastime."

Cal groans at him. "Quit irritating me. So, you know this diet of yours?"

"What about it?" Ethan says, bemused by Cal. He jots down a few words in his notebook, but manages to look up at Cal simultaneously.

"Maybe... maybe five pounds is a bit much?" Cal suggests. He's wrongly using his ' _I couldn't care any less what you do'_ voice which is always easy to detect. Acting casual has never been Cal's strong suit when he wants something. "Look. I guess I'm thinking about how Mum and Dad used to diet, and... well, they-"

"I won't turn out like that, Cal." Ethan's always been a great mind-reader. He should have known that's what Cal's worried about. Or perhaps ' _worried_ ' is stretching it. "They were obsessed and it broke their marriage." Ethan swallows. "Five pounds is nothing, really."

"Even so. It doesn't sit right with me."

"It's not all about you, Cal!" Ethan snaps. It hits a nerve; this diet means more to Ethan than Cal can comprehend. Why was he trying to ruin this when it's something that seems to be working out?

There's silence until Ethan regrets what he just did. He sighs. It's times like this when he wishes his sentences came with receipts so he can take back his words, because the hurt look on Cal's face is too much to bear. What an _idiot_.

"I'm sorry, Cal... I shouldn't have snapped." Ethan says. He then pauses as they soak up the silence. Cal pouts and Ethan relents. "Fine. If it worries you, I'll... only lose three pounds instead."

"Two."

"No, three."

"Let's compromise. We'll make it two." Cal says, resuming back to his usual arrogant self which makes Ethan crave smacking him. Ethan knows it's Cal's way or the highway; it usually is.

"That's not a compromise, Cal!" Ethan sigh, snapping closed his notebook. "It's just _you_ getting what _you_ want."

"Please?"

Ethan sighs for the hundredth time that evening and decides that it's not worth the fuss. He lets Cal off. Ethan doesn't want to put a wedge between them with arguments when it's taken years to mend the cracks in their relationship, and still they're visible. It's not worth breaking bridges for the sake of a silly new years diet.

"Fine. I'm not going to argue with you over something so trivial." Ethan knows very well that that's what they've been doing for the last five minutes, as much as they like pretend that everything is smooth-sailing. "Two it is, then."

"Good nibbles." Cal says triumphantly, reaching over to ruffle Ethan's hair.

Ethan can't help but laugh, so Cal smiles, and the tension disappears in an invisible puff of smoke.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **12th of January 2017**

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Ethan continues counting in his head. The soft voice in his mind that reads out his thoughts must be getting awfully out of breath. Still, one to four, he continues it on and on. It helps to distract him.

With numbers in his head and seemingly shrinking lungs, Ethan runs down the street. His legs are aching from the inside out and the sound of him running is bouncing off walls. It is refreshing and exhausting all at the same time.

He arrives back at the emergency department with a distinct pride that he'd managed to run quite a long way in a short amount of time. Take that, calories.

"Where have you been?"

Ethan falls into step with Robyn as he passes through the doors, her by his side. Still short of breath, he only manages a one word answer. "Running."

"Running? Why? You're still in your scrubs, you idiot. Here, have my water." Robyn passes him her bottle of water and sighs. "Oh, don't tell me, you're turning into one of those people who eat kale and practice mindfulness? It was only a matter of time, I guess."

Ethan gives her a look of confusion before chugging a good quarter of the water. Then he sets about forgetting all of her many questions. "Sorry, I drank quite a lot of your water. Uh, what's mindfulness?"

"You know what, never mind. Back to my question. Why are you running?"

"Trying to lose weight."

Robyn stops in her tracks. People who've been walking behind her swear in irritation and barge past; it is almost comical. Needless to say, Robyn is none of the wiser.

"You're trying to LOSE weight?!"

"Don't tell the whole hospital!" Ethan says, horribly conscious of how loud she just spoke. Ethan doesn't want to become the butt of hospital gossip; ' _oh, he's losing weight! I bet a tenner that he'll fail'_.

All right, that's probably unfair. Honestly, the people that Ethan works with are lovely. They would never say that, surely. But it's difficult to block out the noise of them laughing at him in his imagination.

He then remembers the question. "Yes. Lose weight. Why not?"

"Because you look fine!"

Ethan shrugs at a loss for words but can't even try to ignore the lovely feeling her words give him. She really is sweet, but it's no secret that Robyn has a tentative relationship with the truth at the best of times.

It's not that he's fat (and even if he was, Ethan knows that there's nothing wrong with that). But Ethan knows that he _can_ look better than how he does; there's always room for improvement.

"Thank you. But I still feel like I should."

"Well... be careful. It's obviously harmless, but just make sure you have lunch, yeah?"

Ethan nods. "Course. Thank you for your water, by the way."

"No problem," Robyn smiles. She takes the water he offers back and heads off, but before Ethan can go any further than five foot down the hall she calls: "Change your scrubs before you treat any patients later, you smell like death!"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **18th of January 2017**

"I am so, so, sorry for your loss."

Ethan can only watch as the brunette woman before him, the mother of his deceased patient, covers her mouth and sinks down lower onto her seat as her back curls. She shakes.

"She was twenty-one!" Mrs Ravendale, the poor relative, cries with her hand clamped over her mouth. "Twenty- _one_! Why didn't you all save her?"

Ethan swallows back some of his guilt and lowers himself onto the seat next to hers. "We all did everything we could, Mrs Ravendale, but your daughter's injuries were severe. The knife was-"

He stops entirely, realizing his words are having the opposite of his intended effect, as Mrs Ravendale cries harder. Stupid, _stupid._

"I'm… I'm so sorry, I really am," Ethan feels his heart sink to the bottom of his chest. "Is there anyone you need? Anyone I can call? Husband, sister, brother, mother… anyone?"

Mrs Ravendale shakes her head as more tears slip down her face. "No. It's just me and her," Her bottom lip shakes. " _Was_ just me and her, I mean."

Ethan feels his guilt intensify. "I could call you-"

"With all due respect, I think you've done enough." Mrs Ravendale shakes off the hand that he had placed on her left shoulder blade and swipes underneath her eyes.

There's nothing that can be done besides watching helplessly as she rises to her unsteady feet and ambles out of the room. She slams the door behind her.

Ethan buries his head in his hands and sighs shakily. That's another failure to add to the list; another person he could not save and another relative he could not comfort. What was the point of being a doctor if he was no good at it?

"Doctor Hardy?" He lifts his head to see Noel. "Sorry, there's emergency in resus. Again. You're needed."

Ethan gets up and gives Noel a nod of acknowledgement that sends him away, and heads off to try and save someone, _anyone,_ in this godforsaken hospital.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **20th of January 2017**

Ethan stands on the scale and waits.

Time ticks slowly and his heart beats quickly. He's been waiting all day to do this, to see if his efforts have paid off. Two pounds isn't a particularly large amount, but it's enough and it means that at least Ethan's achieved something in the beginning of this year.

A number flashes up. Ethan does fast primary school math to check if his past weight is two pounds higher than his new current one.

Two numbers are gone from his past weight. Ethan's done it.

Ethan relishes in his triumph. That was easy. Something, finally something, had gone right in the beginning of this year.

Later on that night, for the first time in a while, Ethan drifts off to sleep burden free.

He only has one nightmare and awakens, drenched by cold sweat which sticks his nightshirt to his back like glue, with the memories of the people he could not save haunting him.

Ethan is low on positivity, but he gathers the small amount he still has left and keeps it close to his heart.

 _At least I lost the weight,_ he thinks as the sun comes up. _At least there's that._


	3. 2: Goals and Girlfriends

**(Guest) Daya:** _Thank you!_

 **Tanith Panic:** _Thank you for both of your reviews on the prologue and chapter one. You're so right, Ethan is absolutely devoted to losing weight even though there's no reason at all to be. He really throws himself into work, too, which is a curse and a blessing as those he doesn't save will play on his mind. I'm glad you found Cal's part in Ethan's diet amusing. (And you're not alone with the Alicia thing, she was much lovelier with pink hair and a matching stethoscope before she got all 'hard' and not-very-her at all!)_

 **InfintyAndOne:** _I'm happy to hear that the time skips worked and why they did! I've used them a lot in this story. Ethan's work life is definitely going downhill by the things he misses, the deaths of patients and his struggles to help the newly bereaved relatives. You put it very well; that he'll depend on losing weight for happiness and a coping mechanism to make him feel good when things are going wrong. Definitely not a good way to cope! Thank you for your detailed review, I always love reading them. Hope you enjoy this update too!_

 **CBloom2** : _Poor Ethan indeed. Thank you so much, that means a lot! I hope I don't disappoint as the story continues._

 **tracys dream:** _Ah thank you! I hope you enjoy the update. Thank you for your review!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed it! Well, as time progresses and if things get any worse, hospitalisation will definitely be on the horizon. This story will probably burn quite slowly to soart, but when 'stuff' hits the fan it will really spiral out of control! Thank you for your review!_

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 **21st of January 2017**

Both brothers have many clear memories of pestering each other when they wanted something, back when they were children.

For instance, Ethan would nag Cal until he agreed to walk down to the park with him or ask his mum for something that Ethan was too shy to. Or Cal would bother Ethan until he did his homework for him, hoovered their shared bedroom or did the dishes. Occasionally, it was all three.

Time changes a lot of things, but pestering each other has never ceased.

"Cal?" Ethan asks, using the same voice that Cal does when he wants something. "Can I tell you something?"

Ethan can't keep it to himself; he just needs someone, anyone, to know. And of course, Cal is the first person who Ethan wants to tell his achievements to. It's never fun, being the one who never achieves their goals or does it last. This time, though, Cal will never hear the end of the banished two pounds of weight.

"Can it wait, Ethan?"

Ethan sighs and leans into the bathroom door frame a tad more. Cal is standing in the bathroom, where he had been alone until Ethan had walked straight in, doing his hair and just being Cal, really. He's using more body spray than is healthy.

"Uh, not really."

Cal doesn't reply, closing his eyes and spritzing yet more body spray. Ethan chokes on the citrus polluted air, forced to take a step back at a very real risk of suffocation.

"I need to go soon, Ethan, so we can talk later," Cal says. He coughs too, but hides it badly. "Right, how do I look?"

"Fine. But you're going to kill her if you spray any more of that stuff, you know," Ethan says.

Ethan knows that Cal must be nervous if he's asking for an opinion on how he looks. It's usually a last minute resort when he does that.

Ethan takes the body spray from Cal. "It's probably not ideal to kill your girlfriend on the fifth or sixth date, to be honest."

Cal's anxiety and nervousness is rooted by the knowledge that in five minutes, he'll be off on another date with Mollie. That, apparently, is his new girlfriend who Ethan has heard far too much about. Honestly, Ethan hasn't heard the end of it.

"Uh. You might be right," Cal takes the body spray back defiantly. " Actually, I might shower again just to be sure I don't smell too strong. You can't be too careful of these things, nibbles."

Ethan leans against the wall in Cal's room, which is typically untidy, and sighs. "You can't shower again, Cal, as you're meeting her at six. It's almost six now."

Cal drops the can with a clatter onto the desk. "Shit, really? Damn it! We need to go."

"Uh, what do you mean by 'we'? _I'm_ not going on a date with her!"

"It's for moral support, Eth. And you can even tell me what you're so pleased about as we drive there. Sound good?"

Ethan doesn't need anymore convincing than that.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A curtain of darkness falls over the landscape of buildings, which is visible through her wide window, and several paint splashes of white dot the sky. The clock resting on the smart night stand has just struck six in the evening.

Well, he's late, then.

Mollie Sanderson can only feel concern as to why he's running late, but decides to use this extra time for good. For example, she still needs to sort out her hair and finish her lipstick. It's not all bad. Mollie can make the best out of this.

She pulls her brown hair out from behind her back, where it had been previously tickling her bare shoulder blades, and places it so it hangs loose past her breasts. Mollie marvels at the length of her soft brown hair. It almost reaches her waist, but not quite. It's always been that long, ever since she was a small child. She was one of those children who refused drastic hair-cuts but it paid off in the end.

After a quick look at the clock, which reads one minute past six, she lowers herself and peers into the mirror on her clean desk. She outlines her lips with a burgundy lipstick, and then rubs them together.

When Mollie is content that she has done her appearance justice, she leaves her bedroom and waits for her boyfriend's arrival. Better late than never, she supposes.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"That's amazing!"

Ethan beams at Cal's praise, but still remains bashful. It's nice to have someone so proud of him. "It's only two pounds, Cal…"

"Yeah, but it's something, isn't it? Well done, Eth. Not going to lie, I was expecting you to forget all of it and eat that cake I kept dangling in your face," Cal laughs as Ethan swats him. "Don't, I'm driving! And I was joking. I didn't think you'd give up."

Ethan nods and tells Cal to take the next turning because of traffic. "Well, I'm glad that's done. We've both finished our new year's resolutions now! Even though you technically cheated as you were already dating Mollie…"

"Unfair. That's very unfair, Ethan," Cal scolds with a smile. "Anyway, I can't hide that I'm glad the diet's over too. Now you can eat normally. Yeah?"

"Of course."

"Good," Cal releases a breath. Ethan wonders if Cal's seat belt is too tight; that was quite a breath of relief. "Now, be nice to Mollie. She's lovely and I don't want you scaring her off."

"That's the sort of thing I say to you!"

"Yeah, as if you actually go on dates," Cal endures a _look_ from Ethan. "Well, that was a bad attempt at a mean look, Ethan. Anyway, you're coming in to say hello, so just… be you."

"Thanks for the motivational speech, Caleb, but I was planning to be anyway."

Cal slams on the breaks as they park. "Oh, sorry, Ethan... didn't mean to chuck us forward like that."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It's ten minutes past six when the sound of her boyfriend's car pulling into the car park can be heard. A screeching, irritating noise against the tarmac alerts her to their arrival as two men get out of the car. One has the tall, long-legged and jean clad figure of Cal, which is unmistakable, and the other is shorter and walks close to Cal as they leave the car. They talk and don't notice her at the window.

Mollie smoothes her hair out unnecessarily to burn time before the buzzer goes off. The routine of allowing them to enter the flat is tedious, but Mollie is too elated to see Cal again that she barely notices.

"Evening." Mollie greets and plants a kiss on Cal's cheek. He smells strongly of citrus body spray which almost blocks out the scent of her flat; incense and clean laundry. "I'm glad you're here."

Cal smiles at her guiltily."I'm so sorry I'm late, Mollie. Traffic was an absolute nightmare," Cal says and aims a look at the shorter male beside him. "Not to mention that _Ethan_ took so bloody long to get ready!"

Mollie laughs. "It's fine, I get it! No worries."

She looks Ethan (who she's heard so much about) up and down; blond hair, happy brown eyes, fairly thin frame, short height, and dressed smartly. Mollie judges it best to extend a formal hand and introduce herself.

"Ethan. Cal's younger brother." Ethan says, fidgeting after the sweaty handshake. He looks at Cal as he speaks the last part and adds in a (hopefully) joking manner: "Unfortunately."

Mollie laughs but decides that she will never understand siblings. Being an only child, the way that Ethan seems to visibly loathe and adore his brother simultaneously eludes her. She's only known him for five seconds but she's noticed all of that. Still, it's entertaining to watch. Almost like a soap opera.

"Oh, don't let Cal hear you say that, it'll break his heart!" Mollie smiles. "Come on in, both of you, I have biscuits."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They sit in a pleasant silence for the most part, burning time before Cal and Mollie need to head out in order to get their reservation in time.

Ethan sits on the leather sofa next to Cal, and Mollie perches on the edge of the coffee table as the other sofa seems so far away from the two.

Mollie asks the usual standard questions to an awkward Ethan, such as ' _how was work_ ', ' _how was your journey'_ and many others which he obviously asked straight back at her politely. Cal sat happily munching the biscuits and smiling at Mollie a lot of the time, almost as though she was the only thing in the room that he could see (besides the biscuits).

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Mollie asks, offering Cal _another_ biscuit which he takes gratefully. Ethan only has one but eats it completely.

"Uh, no."

"Boyfriend?"

Cal snorts but Ethan doesn't. He does blush ever so slightly, and Mollie is pleased that he's not the sort of person who would be wrongly horrified by that question."No, I don't. Happily single, thank you." Ethan says. "Obviously it'd be stupid of me to, uh, ask the same question back."

"Probably. But I'd get it if you did. I'll never forget the times I've told the waiters at restaurants to enjoy their meal too. It's a politeness thing," Mollie smiles. "Right. I'm just about done interrogating you now, Ethan."

"Ah, fantastic," Ethan says jokingly with a smile. "I was waiting for you to ask for my fingerprints, but that can wait til next time."

As time has passed, there's no denying that they've gotten far more comfortable than they were. Ethan isn't even fidgeting anymore and Mollie's stopped playing with the hem of her skirt.

"I guess I'd better leave you to it, then," Ethan says, getting up. "Be good, Cal."

"Obviously, when am I not?" Cal gives Ethan a look as if to say ' _don't answer that_ '. "See you later on, then."

Ethan leaves the two in peace, receiving another kiss on the cheek from Mollie and another biscuit.

"Now," Mollie sits beside Cal. "I hope you sorted out the reservation for the restaurant, because I haven't!"

Cal's face drains of colour. "Ah. Right, well, thing is-"

"Sweetheart, I'm joking! Oh my god. I sorted it, obviously." Mollie lands a kiss on Cal's cheek. "Come on then. I'm starving." Mollie says it in a voice which means, perhaps, that she's not just starving for a posh tea.

Cal wholeheartedly hopes that's what it means. But if not, he's fine with that. Just her presence is enough to satisfy him in every single way.

Cal shivers at the cheesiness and admittedly dirtiness of his own thoughts before taking her hand. They leave the flat and walk out into the night together.


	4. 3: Lonely

**(Guest) Amy:** _I accept criticism when it's constructive but not this. It's not okay to send hate in, but I already know who you are and understand why you would do it - for revenge - so I'm not hurt by it. Very sorry to hear that you don't enjoy it, I'd suggest no longer reading as it'll only get (in your words) 'shittier' and more 'depressing' from here!_

 **Guest:** _Thank you very much. I hope you also enjoy this update, thank you for your review!_

 **Tanith Panic:** _Yay, I'm glad you like her! It was a happier chapter, I try to keep a balance between lighter and darker stuff. The description of twilight was tricky to write but it's so lovely to hear that you liked it. Thank you for your review and kind words!_

 **SiriuslyPctter:** _Good to hear dude, hope you enjoy this chapter too - or perhaps you'll enjoy the next one better as there's a bit more Suffering™ in it. Thank you for your review, I appreciate it._

 _ **A/N:**_ _This may be a little short, but my usual word count is between 1,500-3000 words. Am working on making these chapters longer. Thank you so much for your continued support - it honestly makes me very happy. Next chapter will come very soon._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **22nd of January 2017**

It's the next morning when Cal returns. The sound of the front door slamming, shoes being thrown against the wall and a coat falling on the floor alerts Ethan to his brother's appearance, as it always does. Cal never arrives quietly unless it's in the dead of night and he's sneaking around. Today is no exception.

Ethan is sitting at the table, drinking a dark coffee and holding a piece of cold buttered toast, whilst flicking through his phone. Cal walks, a little guiltily, into the room.

"Where have you been?"

"Sorry. We got pretty drunk."

"Drunk?" Ethan looks up from his phone and drops his toast onto his plate with a soft thump. He's not in the mood for it, anyway. "She didn't seem like that kind of person."

"Oh, yeah. She loves partying. When she gets going there is no stopping her, trust me! We went clubbing after the restaurant and then I dropped her back home. I'll see her at work later, if she's not too hungover!" Cal laughs and sits on the side of the table. "Oh yeah, when's work?"

"Seven. Luckily, you're just in time - I'll drive us there in a bit."

Cal smiles. "Ah. Born lucky, aren't I?"

"Seems that way."

Cal gets comfortable on the table and takes Ethan's half eaten toast. "You okay?"

Ethan peers up at Cal momentarily and then drops his eyes back down to his phone. He refreshes his emails again pointlessly. Obviously, Cal has noticed Ethan's vague cold tone. "Yes. I'm okay."

"Not mad at me for leaving you on your own-io all night?"

"Nope," Ethan shrugs. "Was nice to get the peace."

Cal nods. "Right."

"It's nice that you're back, though," Ethan admits with his eyes glued needlessly to his phone screen. "It's quiet when you're not about, making noise."

Cal laughs and bites into Ethan's toast. "I'll take that as a compliment that you like my noise."

Ethan smiles, but in all honesty, he had really missed Cal. It wasn't like they did a lot when they were both at home together, but the silence was so glaring that Ethan had gotten sick of it.

It's such a relief that, finally, Ethan and Cal can be alone for at least a day before Cal dashes off to see Mollie again. As lovely as she is, Ethan decides that it'd do Cal good to have a few hours from her. It'll be brilliant to spend some time with Cal again.

Ethan's relief is short lived when he suddenly remembers something Cal had just said.

' _I'll see her at work later, if she's not too hungover!'_

Ethan drops his phone. "Uh, Cal, what did you mean a minute ago, when you said that you'll see Mollie at work later?"

"Because she works at the same hospital we do," Cal says. He notices Ethan's face as it falls. "Oh. Didn't you know that?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

For the remainder of the day, Ethan spends the majority of the time on his own. Turns out, Mollie works as an agency nurse in same department. She spends a lot of time shadowing Cal and giggling. Ethan can't stand the happiness - seemingly forever being the Scrooge of every season - and breaks apart from them.

Even on their breaks, Ethan is in a room full of people who he knows probably doesn't want to speak to him. He hates to admit it but he, somehow, feels lonely in a hospital filled by hundreds.

And it's not like the work side of things is going well, either.

"I'm so sorry, I honestly didn't mean to… I'll try again, hang on," Ethan can feel his cheeks burn from the inside out and his heart rapidly beating in his ears. About three years of working in this hospital, even longer in the medical profession, and he manages to miss a vein!

"No, don't," His patient, Patricia Arch, is visibly shaking. "I told you I hate needles, and you _promised_ that you wouldn't miss!"

Ethan felt like bursting into tears. "I am incredibly sorry, Patricia, it's-"

"That's Mrs Arch to you," Patricia hisses. "Get that needle away from me and get someone who can do their job!"

Ethan obeys her commands immediately, deciding that to even attempt convincing her to let him try again would probably end in a lawsuit.

"I'll… I'll get you a different doctor or nurse."

"Good," Patricia snaps. "Anyone would be better than you!"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mollie and Cal manage to slip out of the emergency department to walk companionably down the street at three minutes past twelve. The roads are almost entirely free of life, just the way they like it - which is probably not something two medical professionals should think.

"It's funny," Mollie says, ripping open the pack of chips they'd just bought from the local chippy. It smells strong and only strengthens her hunger. "I've only known you, what, just over a month? And I've just told you my whole life story."

"You'd tell anyone but the kitchen sink, Mollie!" Cal takes a chip and grins. "I'm joking. Look, I like to listen. Makes a change from me talking all the while, as Ethan and pretty much everybody says."

Mollie laughs. She blows on one of the chips, which is greasy between her two manicured fingers, and passes it to Cal. They have at least ten minutes until they need to leg it back to the department. She swallows - now may be the only good time to ask. It's time to swallow both her pride and a chip.

"So, about Ethan. Is he, uh, happy with sharing his flat with you?"

"Ah, yeah, he loves it. He missed me last night."

"He said that?"

"No, but I can tell. Brothers intuition." Cal says. "I was thinking, it must be, well, weird - you don't have a brother. Or a sister. No siblings at all. Who did you annoy when you were growing up?"

Mollie shrugs and smiles, taking another chip as they continue down the street. She welcomes the subject change, forever enjoying procrastination like a teenager putting off studying finals. "Nobody. I had friends, though."

"Good. Friends are good."

"Yeah," Mollie says. She coughs and straightens out her nurse uniform. With the remembrance that she should be too old for procrastination - which is untrue, by the way - she gets on with it. "On an unrelated, casual note, d'you reckon there's any chance of someone else moving in? Hypothetically."

"Who?" Cal asks, utterly oblivious. Mollie blinks at him and coughs again. The realization is visible on his face. "Oh!"

Mollie looks down and blushes. It's all her own fault, really. She's thirty one and she's managed to get kicked out of her own blooming flat. "Actually, forget I said anything. It's far too early, and I can ask my parents. It's my own fault, really. Too much partying and not enough paying rent - it's no surprise my landlord said ' _enoughs enough_ '. I'll ask my parents, or I'll-"

"I… I never said no, Mollie!" Cal says. He stops speaking for a little while, walking silently and chewing a chip thoughtfully. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Move in!" Cal smiles. Mollie feels utterly blessed. "We're not getting any younger, anyway. May as well."

"If you're sure?"

"Completely," Cal grins, visibly carefree and chuffed. "Welcome to the madhouse."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It's half past two when Ethan can finally have his lunch break. After the incident with Patricia, which had luckily but unfairly (Ethan deserves to be punished for it, really) stayed unreported to Connie, Ethan had lost his spark and spent the remainder of the morning shadowing Cal alongside Mollie.

He longs to talk to Cal, to get something off his chest or just be distracted, but Cal seems too busy for Ethan. After some time, Ethan gave up trying to even try to get Cal's attention and evacuated in the staff room to have a lunch break.

Five minutes have passed and all Ethan had done was stare at his sandwich, which looked just as limp and dead as he felt. Ethan sighs. It's not like he deserves to eat after the fear he caused poor Patricia.

"Morning," Lily's voice makes him jump. "Or should I say afternoon?"

"Afternoon." Ethan says, restraining a sigh. Lily's in a good mood, he can tell by her posture which is definitely not as slumped as his is. "Have you had lunch yet?"

Lily sits on the stool opposite him in the staff room and gets herself comfortable before answering. "No, not yet. I've been busy."

"Did you bring it with you?"

"I didn't get the chance to make one. I'll buy myself a lunch later on - don't you worry about me."

Ethan slides his sandwich across the table over to her earnestly. "You can have mine."

"No, no, you need to eat something just as much as me. Honestly, I'm fine."

"You look pale," Ethan looks at Lily's perfectly normal coloured face and imagines his own face is turning green from his lies. "I don't mind, you can have it. I'll get something later. And besides, I had a big breakfast."

Lily is hesitant but is swayed by his reassurance. She takes it and Ethan has to look away as she eats it. Watching people eat has always made him feel sick.

"Good shift, then?" Lily asks. She finishes a mouthful and looks at him as she waits for his reply.

Ethan forces a smile weakly and looks straight past her. "Yeah. It's been great."


	5. 4: Weight of Living

**Tracys dream:** _Thank you, hope you enjoy this chapter!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan** : _Glad someone noticed the title being dropped in there! And it is lovely of Cal to give his home out to Mollie - even though it isn't specifically his home. We'll have to see Ethan's reaction in some time! Thanks for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Well, someone has to be happy in this fanfiction and I thought it'd be nice if it was Cal! It really is bittersweet - you have one brother whose life is getting better and better, and another which is honestly missing his brother and having bad luck. I've always seen Ethan as a self-punisher, so adding that line made sense to me! Ethan giving his lunch to an unsuspecting Lily was kind but I guess concerning. I hope you enjoy this next chapter too and thank you for the review!_

 **Tanith Panic:** __ _Fear is a tricky thing - some people get angry when they're scared and the anger of Patricia's just happened to be projected at Ethan. Hopefully someone will notice his uneasiness at some point if it gets any worse. Thank you for your review and kind words!_

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **23rd of January 2017**

"You've had a complaint."

Ethan's stomach feels like it's physically dropped to the bottom of his body. The disappointment on Connie's face only prolongs the feeling.

"A… a complaint?"

Connie nods. "Yes. It's anonymous, so don't even ask who made it. Not even I know," There's a small pause. It lets the venom of the complaint sink in. "I'm very disappointed, Doctor Hardy. I expected more from you."

Ethan's eyes drop to his wringing hands which are resting on his lap. He sits uncomfortably on the woven chair opposite Connie's spotless desk and tries to look as though he's not broken as hell by the news. "I'm really sorry, Mrs Beauchamp."

"Good." Connie says. "You should be. Three years working here and you've got the same complaint a junior doctor would! Apparently, you're distracted, nervous, jittery, dense, incompetent, unprofessional, _exhausted looking…_ the list goes on."

Each word used to describe him feels like a stab in the heart. Ethan feels a lump in his throat as the words are inked and stamped permanently into his mind. He can't say anything, so he only nods.

Connie sighs. As Ethan remains silent, she softens slightly. "Is there something wrong lately, Ethan?"

Ethan shakes his head, feeling tears rise behind his glasses. He's truthful; there's nothing wrong. It's just bad luck, every day, which seems to be determined to kick him.

"This isn't like you."

"I promise you, I'm okay."

Connie looks at him searchingly. "Are you depressed?"

"No! Mrs Beauchamp, I'm perfectly fine," Ethan tells her quickly. "I'm so sorry the complaint happened. I'm not depressed. Only thing I am is just… useless, really," He laughs shakily. "But there's nothing new there."

Connie looks almost alarmed. "Right. Look, I think you're just exhausted and lethargic. You need to learn to take care of yourself and stop using work as a way to get out of your own head. We've all done it - but honestly, it's an awful coping mechanism. Focus on something else."

"I-I don't have the time to focus on anything else. I need to work, it's what matters."

"You do have time now. I'm afraid I'm suspending you. Alright? Not because of the complaint, but because I'm concerned."

Ethan's vision is blurry from the tears provoked by the utter unfairness of it all - he tries so hard but for what? "There's no need to be."

"'I'm afraid it's necessary. You've overworked yourself. Listen, you're a valuable member of my team, when you're rested. This isn't a punishment as such, just a chance to get back onto your feet."

Ethan nods feebly in acknowledgement - he can't win this one.

There's nothing left to say. Connie sighs and Ethan stares at his hands until she gives him the command to leave. He doesn't say anything but _'sorry'_ as he leaves.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cal greets Mollie with a kiss on the cheek from behind. She squeals with shock and then laughs.

"Heya. Good shift?"

Mollie smiles. "Very good. I helped a woman give birth for the first time."

Cal sits on the sofa in the vacant staff room besides her, giving her a look as if to say _'tell_ _me_ _more'_. She does and he is intoxicated by her elated smile. Mollie speaks about it enthusiastically, mentioning that she got to hold the baby and chatted to the mother afterwards about names.

Cal feels as though her good vibes are catching - if they were infectious, he'd be coming down with a cold.

"Anyway!" Mollie finally cuts herself off. "I actually meant to mention this earlier; I got my stuff together this morning. It's all in boxes - pretty sure I used more brown tape than I should've, but oh well. I'm all set! I think my landlord will throw a party when I'm gone, actually."

Cal laughs slightly nervously. "Ah. Yes. About that."

Mollie's face falls only a little. "Sorry?"

Cal feels a miniscule shred of resentment for himself. "I… I haven't quite mentioned it to Ethan yet," Cal grimaces. "He has no idea. I mean, I've been meaning to bring it up, but last night he was really distant. He usually is. So-"

Mollie clears her throat and looks toward the door. Cal quickly turns to see his brother then entering - it's as though he can sense when they're speaking of him - and shuts up.

Cal is about to call a greeting but Ethan looks impassive and vacant - even if he did speak, Cal doubted Ethan would hear.

He does anyway, almost trying to clear the tension that Ethan had brought in with him. "You alright, Eth?"

Ethan blanks him, knowingly or unknowingly. He opens his locker lethargically and begins to drag things out. After removing most of his possessions and placing them onto the staff room table into a Tesco bag, he slams it shut.

"Ethan?" Cal gets up from the sofa, leaving Mollie to sit and watch. He traipses over slowly and studies Ethan's face. "Are you going home? What's up?"

He turns from the locker with a face that is blanky inscrutable, but his eyes tell many different stories. "I've been suspended."

Cal's eyes immediately widen and even Mollie walks over. "Seriously? Why?"

"What is this, twenty questions?" Ethan obviously forces a laugh to hide the venom of those words. "Look, it's because of an anonymous complaint. Connie thought it best I spend time off work for a while, that's all."

"Oh…" Cal sighs. He can't offer anything else besides a hand on Ethan's shoulder, squeezing it tightly. There's anger in his thoughts, though - who would complain against his brother, who only ever tries his best?

"It's only for a little while," Ethan says, as though that makes it all okay. "So it's fine."

"I'm sorry, Eth. I really am. But a complaint? Who'd complain against you?"

"Anyone with common sense." Ethan says expressionlessly and self-deprecatingly. He repeats Cal's sigh, quietly appreciative of the hand-on-shoulder gesture but shakes it off. Turning back to his locker, he locks it up as tightly as he does his feelings and swallows. "I'll see you back home."

"I'll come back with you."

"No, no," Ethan looks at Mollie for a split second, then back at Cal. "It's fine, I don't want to put you out. You can, you know, stay with Mollie."

Cal senses that Ethan wants to be alone and agrees with only the slightest reluctance. "Sure. I'll come back and make a giant dinner later, okay? Condolences and all that."

"Sounds good." Ethan says in a tone that makes it sound like it definitely is not.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cal spends a lot of time, after that, just thinking. He watches his brother's retreating back in his mind on repeat and thinks sadly of it. These things happen, but that doesn't make it any easier when they do.

If he knows Ethan, which he does, then he'll be beating himself up over it relentlessly. One of the worst things is that Cal has no power to stop him from doing it.

"Are you going to get any work done, Dr Knight?"

Cal recognizes the sharp voice of Connie from near him. He looks up at her and ignores the question. "Why'd you suspend him?"

Connie is not phased. "I asked you a question."

"I'll get work done when you answer mine," Cal says defiantly. "What did he do wrong?"

"I don't know, Dr Knight. I don't have twenty-four hour surveillance on my doctors," Connie says poisonously. "I imagine it's just exhaustion playing a part and that he's overworked himself - making his patients concerned that they're not being treated well. It's just unfortunate."

Cal sighs deeply. "Can't you un-suspend him?"

"I cannot, I have made my mind up," Connie tells him sternly. "And it's unprofessional of you to ask."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mollie had known that there was as much chance of Cal talking Connie out of Ethan's suspension as pigs learning to fly. She sighs as Cal strolls moodily through the door of their flat - which is not technically _hers_ yet, but she's an optimist - and throws his coat on the floor.

"Caleb," Mollie says gently, picking his coat up from the floor and hanging it. "You knew she wouldn't relent. Let's just have a quiet one tonight and cook so Ethan doesn't have to. It might cheer him up."

"Fine - but I can't cook."

"Neither can I, love." Mollie smiles. "My speciality is microwave macaroni cheese."

Cal eventually smiles too, albeit a little half-heartedly. "Better than my speciality, which is nothing. We'll work it out."

As said, they do. Cal scrapes up every morsel of cooking knowledge he has to help make something edible and Mollie manages to keep the morale going by switching the radio on. Whilst the newsman reels off the many awful things happening in the world and overplayed pop music screeches, Mollie and Cal stuff cheese pizza, chips and a garlic bread into the oven. By the time it's done, they're ravenous and pleased with their accomplishments.

Needless to say, Ethan stays in his room the whole time. Cal only walks in to say hello and tell him that dinner is done whilst Mollie is dishing up.

"Hey, nibbles," Cal switches the light on and the room floods with brightness. "You feeling any better?"

Ethan has his head buried in the pillow as he lays face down on his bed. "Yes."

Cal doubts that this is the truth but takes it on board anyway - he wants it to be true, so he accepts it. "Good," Cal sits gently on the side of the bed and puts his hand on Ethan's back. "Dinner's done. Want any?"

There's a small break in the conversation. "I'm not really hungry."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Says the muffled reply. "I'm just not in the mood. Sorry."

Cal smiles and coaxes Ethan to lift his head up to face him. Ethan does eventually. His eyes look all bloodshot and red. "Pizza will make you feel better. Shall I bring some in?"

Ethan eventually nods. "Okay. Thank you, Cal."

"No problem." Cal says. He ruffles Ethan's hair so it's even messier and that earns him a smile at the very least.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ethan sits, alone, whilst Cal hurries off into the kitchen. Of course, after the day he'd had, Ethan isn't hungry. Anything to keep Cal happy, though.

Besides, Cal had obviously worked very hard - it was unlike him to even make himself a coffee sometimes - to learn what to do, as cooking was Ethan's job because he was very good at it. Well, apparently.

"Here you go, nibbles," Cal gives Ethan a plate filled with oven chips, one slice of cheese pizza and two pieces of garlic bread. He also gives him an apple and a glass which is filled, but half-empty, of water. "I'll be in the living room with Mollie if you need me."

Ethan is about to ask what Mollie's doing in the flat - _his_ flat - but decides against it. He nods an _okay_ and murmurs a _thank you,_ staring down at the plate.

Cal smiles before getting to his feet and leaving the room, pulling the door closed. Ethan pauses and strains his ears to hear what's going on - Mollie is talking away to Cal and he's rustling away in the fridge. When they start laughing, Ethan stops listening.

How selfish - just because Ethan isn't happy at this moment of time doesn't mean he should be so insufferable. Others are allowed to be happy, obviously.

Though it's difficult to switch off the jealousy when they are.

Ethan exhales and places the plate of food, apple and drink on his nightstand so it's out of the way, then he falls back onto the bed. He stares at the white ceiling above him, counting each swirl of the paint and following the lines with his eyes. When he's tired of that, he tries to get comfortable on his bed but it feels like the frame is crafted with concrete. He gives up and turns onto his front, burying his head into the pillow.

His food is getting cold. Ethan remembers this and sits up, mentally reprimanding his behavior and knowing it was pathetic to be feeling so sorry for himself. After all, it could have been so much worse. It's just a simple suspension - no need to get down about it.

Regardless, his appetite is deceased.

Ethan has a sudden bright idea. He gets up and hunts through his drawers, finding his phone and going through his contacts. Hunting to find the name 'Lily', he finally does and presses the call button. She'll cheer him up, or at least hearing her voice will brighten his day a little.

The phone rings twice. Ethan waits, standing by his open desk drawer and willing for her to pick up.

" _Hello?"_

"Hello, it's Ethan."

" _Oh, hi,"_ There's a pause as someone whispers something. Lily sounds like she sighs before saying: _"Is there a problem?"_

Ethan swallows back his emotions, reminding himself that she's always this blunt and trying not to take offence from it. Perhaps he should've called Charlie. "Uh, no. No problems. I just… was wondering what you're up to?"

" _Ah, good. I'm with someone, that's all,"_ Lily sounds distracted. This causes Ethan's heart to clench - was she fed-up with him or just generally tired? Was he over-thinking this or being logical? Ethan hates second guessing with a passion but has no power to stop it. _"So, I'm a little… tied up right now."_

"Oh, wow, sounds good!" Ethan's voice is so bright that it can't be real. It takes a moment for him to get her previous hint. "As you're busy, I guess I'll, uh, leave you to it then."

Lily sighs again. _"Hang on, I'm sorry. Iain, can you…"_ She giggles - when has Lily ever giggled? - and then sounds like she's leaving the room. _"Sorry, I couldn't hear you for a while. Anyway, I'm in a different room. How's-"_

"You know what, I think Cal's calling me from the other room," Ethan swallows back his lie, having to talk quickly so she can't hear the wobble of his voice. All at once, he says: "I'll-call-you-back-later-bye."

Ethan hangs up. He takes in a shaky breath before placing his phone into his drawer and berating himself for the tears prickling behind his glasses.

She's just busy with Iain, Ethan thinks, and he knows that she must've had a long shift too. As he was taken off shift, that probably would've made her workload even heavier - therefore making her exhausted and not in the mood to talk. This is all logical and 99.9% true but there's still the 00.1% that it's not.

Ethan has the option of sitting with Mollie and Cal to kill the loneliness. But in all honesty, he'd rather sit in a vat of hot oil. So, he doesn't.

God, why can't he just be happy in his own company? Ethan sighs - something which says more than words can about his current mood- and removes his glasses to rub his eyes.

Nothing is going as it should, lately. It's been more or less than 23 days of pure and utter awfulness. Everything is so far from right that it's heading left! Ethan leans against his drawers with the weight of a thousand boulders holding him down and he hates it - he wants to feel weightless but cannot. Not with the weight of living holding him down.

Ethan decides to call Charlie - if he can't solve his non-existent problems himself, perhaps Charlie can - but is distracted by the notebook his phone is laying on as he picks it up.

His phone is forgotten as Ethan looks. It's black, lined and filled with numbers and accomplishments - his dieting book. Ethan flicks through it, smiling as he remembers the exhilarating feeling of making his goals come true. Thriving from success is something he's never particularly been acquainted to. But for the short time he had dieted for, there was more of that feeling than ever before.

He remembers how good he felt when he was on that diet, back in time. Losing weight, accomplishing things, feeling good about his body or at least something in his life! It didn't matter than his work life was tarnished, that he was slowly losing his brother to a brunnette and expensive clothes clad lady, that his dead love life snickered in his face and that his failures circled him like vultures.

None of that mattered when he had something, one thing, to save him.

Ethan puts his notebook down and walks to the plate of unhealthy, greasy and calorific food. Feeling guilty when he scrapes it in his bin - Cal's efforts being ruined - only lasts a second when he gets that amazing release of control.

If nothing else will go how he likes, then perhaps he can control this instead.

He has a drink of water instead with his apple in his hand and sits on his bed, all thoughts of feeling out of control and like a failure are almost truant. No calories, no problem.

Ethan is determined to feel good again - to feel weightless. And he knows he can make that happen.


	6. 5: Perfection

**Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Thank you, I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed the chapter. He's certainly doubting himself a lot lately, sadly. Thank you for your review!_

 **Tracys** **dream:** _Poor Ethan indeed, he's really being put through the mill - by me. Thank you for your review!_

 **Tanith** **Panic:** _No worries at all! Life does get in the way sometimes, though I have missed your lovely reviews. When I read the 'this isn't a fun read' part, my stomach dropped but I realised it wasn't meant in a bad way! I'm blushing from your kind words, I'm so happy I got the desired effect! And I can picture Connie's approach being distant but still concerned. There's very little she can do unless he allows her to know what's wrong, as you said, and he doesn't even know what's wrong himself! Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Honestly, Ethan probably feels like the world is ending from things going badly! As you said and put it well, all he wants is to feel better. I hope this chapter isn't disappointing, actually, I had some problems with it. Thank you for your review!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **24th of January 2017**

Mollie's smile is stretched across her face to an extent that it looks plastic, and Cal's blue eyes are plagued with guilt - and so they should be.

 _Again_ , Ethan thinks in his fury, _he's done it_ _again_!

Why is it so hard to talk to your own brother before jumping straight into the depths and making promises which are not yours to make?

Ethan manages to spit out a coherent sentence in his blinding shock. "You're _what_?"

"I thought it'd be nice if she moved in," Cal says calmly. His eyes are pleading with Ethan in quiet desperation. "Don't you?"

Ethan sits on the edge of the sofa, feeling the anger surge through his veins. Nothing _ever_ goes to plan - Cal always does dumb shit like this without his permission! It's his flat, not Cal's, and it's being offered to someone who is virtually a stranger - who will only suck away the time Ethan gets with his _infuriating_ brother. Ethan hasn't felt this furious, this _used_ , in a long time.

But with all this in mind, it's a shock when someone says in his voice: "I don't mind at all - make yourself at home, Mollie."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

After some time, Mollie and Cal are left alone when Ethan leaves the house to 'do some shopping'. Cal knows he's just angry and needs to cool down - he just wishes Ethan would understand that when happiness comes near, you must grab it with both hands otherwise it'll escape. That's all Cal's doing - making the most of his newfound love and holding it close to him.

"If you grab your boxes, we'll start unpacking," Cal decides, sitting up from the sofa and then smiling despite it all. "About time, too."

Mollie bares a small smile. "Sure."

"If you like, we can go shopping for some-"

"Are you sure this is okay?" Mollie blurts. She sounds stressed, and for Mollie, this is unusual. "I mean, moving in so soon. I understand if you want to make sure Ethan's fine with it and then we can sort the rest later. Perhaps it's all a bit much."

Cal grabs hold of his happiness tightly. "I don't think it's too much."

"Really?"

Cal tightens his grip. "Really. Ethan will get over it."

Mollie takes a few seconds to think it over before getting up and nodding. "I suppose. Okay then. I'll get my painting clothes on."

"Paint… painting clothes?"

"Mmm hmm," Mollie smiles. "May as well go all out. I'm going to paint our room a dusty plum colour."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **25th of January 2017**

Ethan spends a lot of time in his room nowadays - almost like a miserable teenager. As he still has time to burn with his suspension in mind, there's very little to do apart from plan meals, count calories and lower the total as if it's an olympic sport from the comfort of his darkened room.

After all, it's not like he'll ever be alone in his flat anymore unless he shuts himself away.

He shakes the thoughts which only make him feel hurt from his mind and adds up the total calories he's eaten today. It's a pleasant distraction from the leftover anger.

 **Breakfast** : _300 calories_

 **Snack** : _80 calories_

 **Lunch** : _458_ _calories_

 **Dinner** : _502 calories_

 **Total** : _1,340_ _calories_

Far from perfect, but better than his old 2,000 calories day. Besides, that's not it. He still has calories which can be burned. You can burn 100 to 200 calories with just 100 jumping jacks, you know.

 _It's great,_ thinks Ethan as he begins to jump on the spot, _having goals and something to focus on. Keeping busy is completely necessary - even Connie said to find something new to focus on besides work. This is perfect._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 _ **26th of January 2017**_

Clearly, Mollie and Cal feel pity towards little, _pathetic_ Ethan - he doesn't know why and questions what's wrong with sleeping a little more than usual as it's not like he has anything to wake up for at the moment - which is evident when they invite him out with them.

He hates feeling pitied with a burning and red hot passion. It makes him feel worse than ever, as if they're only bringing him along to keep an eye on him and make him feel included as if he's a runny nosed six-year-old trying to join in with the older children. It feels awful to tag along but Ethan could hardly have said no to their offer.

"Keep up!" Mollie calls, her left arm linked with Cal's right one. "You're lagging behind."

Ethan nods in quiet acknowledgement as he drags his feet and follows the couple through the shopping centre. Hordes of people who are wearing shopping bag handles around their wrists like bracelets are passing them thick and fast, flooding the centre. It's extremely claustrophobic and suffocating but nobody besides Ethan seems to have noticed this.

"Why do I need a _suit_ , anyway?" Cal whines as they enter the desired shop. "I have plenty."

"Because, Cal, your shirts have lived a long life and deserve to be put to rest," Mollie says, flicking through the racks of clothing. "And I also need some new jackets," Mollie smiles as Cal groans. "What's your size?"

Ethan sighs and stares out of the large shop window, watching as people pass. Mollie and Cal are talking but, as usual, Ethan hardly pays attention. He's pre-occupied in people watching - wondering where the people are going, how they're feeling, why they need three tubs of chocolate spread, why they're dressed like that, all the while he knows that his questions will stay unanswered. Ethan leans against one of the painted white pillars, deep in thought, and waits.

That's when someone who he's never met catches his eye. He stands out like a daisy in a patch of grass.

Effortlessly and gracefully, a man passes by. He has a jawline as sharp as a butcher knife and is the perfect height to be spotted throughout the crowds. He's dressed almost entirely in black, his hair a contrasting light shade of brown, and his long legs are something to be desired.

Another thing? He's the thinnest person Ethan has ever seen in his life.

Ethan can hardly restrain a soft gasp as this man walks out of sight, his almost skeletal legs leading the way and every movement perfectly executed. Apparently, others have their eyes on this man too - it's as though he's a walking tourist attraction.

"Ethan!"

He snaps his head around to see Cal wearing a brown jacket over his usual black shirt, staring at Ethan intently in a questioning way. Ethan realizes he's been being called for quite a long time.

"Mmmm?"

"Wake up, I'm trying to ask you how this looks!" Cal says. "Mollie says it's nice but I think it's too loose on me. What do you think?"

Ethan can't block the skinny man out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries, and can't focus on how the jacket looks to save his life. "It's nice."

"Really?" Cal asks, slanting his eyes dubiously. "Or are you just saying that because you want to get out of here and get lunch?"

 _Trust me, after seeing that man, lunch will do nothing but make me feel sick._ "No, I genuinely think it's nice… and smart."

Cal looks at Ethan, a little skeptical, before nodding and deciding that the jacket looked fine. "I'll pay then we'll get a muffin," Cal smiles and reaches over to ruffle Ethan's blond hair, making his own voice patronisingly squeaky as he teases: "We'll buy some nibbles for nibbles, as you've behaved so well."

Ethan ducks and protests half heartedly. "I'm not that hungry, actually."

"Of course you're hungry, nibbles, it's half past one," Cal laughs at Ethan's attempt to put his hair right. Mollie shouts over for Cal to pay for his things, as she's found two dresses and a blouse that she likes too, and Cal hurries over. As an afterthought, he calls: "Only one muffin though, Eth, we don't want you getting chubby!"

Ethan knows that Cal's joking - he's always joking. Come on, it's _Cal_. He lives for it!

So he mustn't take it to heart, obviously. As it's not as though Cal was implying that he's chubby or fat already - just that he could be.

Despite this, Ethan doesn't know why the thought of being chubby suddenly scares him so much when it never used to.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **27th of January 2017**

Did you know that there are 78 calories in a large boiled egg?

That there are 52 calories in an apple, 272 calories in the average sized slice of cheese pizza, 90 calories in a small banana, 79 calories in a piece of white bread and 352 calories in a slice of chocolate cake? Ethan does - he's learning the amount of calories in food the same way children learn the alphabet.

Only water stays blissfully calorie free, remaining his favorite drink by miles. Food piles on the calories, water has none. That's an important thing he needs to remember if he wants to stay in control of his body.

Ethan sits in the flat on his own, watching both the water and time drip away. He has 20 minutes until it's time to pick Cal and Mollie up - a perfect amount of time for doing absolutely nothing in a day of working hard at home.

He refreshes his ancient laptop and squints at the latest Facebook posts. As usual, he feels the usual stab of loneliness as a bunch of his colleagues pose in a picture captioned ' _Working the Friday shift goes quickly when you're with your besties_ ' which is posted on Robyn's account. The majority of them have big smiles and laughing eyes, all perched on the sofa with coffees and energy drinks in hand. Despite the exhaustion many of them wear, it's clouded by happiness and closeness with each other.

Ethan wonders why he tortures himself like this and shuts the lid. He'll leave early to pick Mollie and Cal up - anything to beat the awful feeling of being alone.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **28th of January 2017**

"How much longer?"

Connie blinks at Cal, who paces her office restlessly. "I beg your pardon?"

"How much longer is Ethan suspended for?"

Ah, she should've known that'd be what he's wondering - Cal's been pestering her more about Ethan's suspension than a child clamouring for ice cream. "Not long. I only suspended him for seven days, and that was mainly just to appease the sender of the complaint and to ease my own mind. Has the break done any good? And sit down, for goodness sake."

Cal sits obediently. "I think so. Well. Not really."

Connie raises an eyebrow. "Explain, then."

"He just sits in his room half the time, writing in his notebook. I dunno what he's writing but he won't let me look," Cal tells her, moving to the edge of his seat as though spikes are on the back of it. "Mollie and I took him out but he was very distracted."

"Right."

"I think he's just sulking, though," Cal admits. "Mollie moved in with us and I think he's a little bit irritated about it. But all things considered, I think he's just bored. It'll be good when the suspension is over."

"As long as he's rested and cleared himself of stress, that's all I care about," Connie tells Cal. "Mollie's your girlfriend, am I right?" Cal nods. "Ah. Well, perhaps he's left feeling left out. It does happen. Just make sure he's fit for work soon and we'll have no problems."

Cal rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans and nods. "I think you're probably right."

"I usually am, Doctor Knight."

"Well, thank you," Cal says, getting up. He smiles at her. "You should write an Agony Aunt page in the newspaper, you know. You've actually been really helpful. It's like having another Charlie in the department."

Connie raises an eyebrow at the _'actually'_ but appreciates the sentiment. "I'll think about it. And you're very welcome. But if things worsen with Doctor Hardy, please let me know."

Cal's hand hovers over the door handle as he turns to look at her in confusion. "Why?"

"I think you've asked enough questions for one day." _Because I'm horribly worried, that's why._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **29th of January 2017**

 _It's time to take this a step further_ , he decides.

The picture imprinted in his mind of the 'perfect man at the shopping centre', as he calls him, seems to be following him everywhere. It is almost a reminder of what he could look like, given time, less food and a burst of exercise.

 _So,_ Ethanthinks _, it's about time to take this diet a step further._

Many people say 'if you encounter a problem, just chuck money at it'. But that's ridiculous. He needs to chuck _himself_ into this problem, not money.

And what's this problem? His ghastly appearance, that's the problem - which is clearly not as perfect as the man in the shopping centre.

If there's one thing every human strives for, it's perfection. And he may as well do the exact same to become his own view of perfection.

He's heard of other people lowering calories to underneath 1,000, visiting the scales more religiously than a church and making sure they looked their own version of perfect, even though their methods of losing weight can be slightly haphazard (Ethan wouldn't use the word 'dangerous', that's a little OTT) at times.

Perhaps skipping a meal or two would do him some good and one hour jogs in the morning followed by some extra form of exercise wouldn't do any harm, would it?

Ethan wants to be perfect - he _really_ wants to. A slow burn diet will only get in the way of that.

And it's not bad if other people feel the same way, surely?

 **A/N:** _Still overwhelmed by the masses of support this story has gotten, thank you so much - I really appreciate it._


	7. 6: Making It Okay

**Tracys dream:** _Glad to hear, I hope you like this chapter. Thank you for your review._

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Definitely, things are not great for Ethan at present. It is nice to have a bit of happy Cal with Mollie, I'm pleased you like it. Thank you for your review, I hope you like this chapter as there's more Cal and Mollie._

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Thank you, I'm glad it wasn't disappointing, and if you have goosebumps then that must be promising, or perhaps you're just cold hehe. And Connie's worried but Cal isn't perhaps because Ethan hides it so well, though somehow Connie spots it. Ethan'll struggle to open up to her though - same as everyone, really. Honestly, seeing the man who is unhealthily skinny has triggered Ethan's own insecurities, you're right. And the answer to your question will be here. I hope you enjoy this one and thank you for your review._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **30th of January 2017**

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

A week has passed since Ethan's suspension. After a call from Connie at half past six that morning, very short notice, it's official that he can finally return to work. At long last, too - he was starting to feel insane from being trapped in those same walls.

"That's great, Ethan!" Cal sounds genuinely happy when Ethan tells him. He's busy painting his ceiling, standing on a stepladder that looks much too high for Ethan's liking, but manages to look down and smile. It feels like old times again. "So you're definitely going back today?"

"Definitely."

As pleased as Ethan is that he can return to work, it's bittersweet. Whoever left the complaint had a point, after all. _And Connie will more than likely watch me like a hawk for my first day back_ , Ethan thinks. _Great_.

Ethan gets out of his own head and looks around the room. Sheets cover the floor to protect it, tape is across the door frame and dripping paint cans rest on the ground. Everything is there - apart from one person."Is Mollie not here?"

"No, she's gone to buy new paint rollers," Cal tells him. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Ethan says. "She's, uh, usually always here with you."

Clearly those words were said with more rancour than intended as Cal snaps his head around. "Don't be like that, Eth."

"Like what?" Ethan says innocently, pretending he doesn't know _exactly_ what Cal means. "What have I done now?"

"I know you don't agree with me being with Mollie," Cal says tetchily. He continues painting the ceiling with far more force than necessary. "But if you were in love, you'd understand. You'd get it. It's not my fault you don't."

"That's besides the point, Caleb," Ethan says, riled up. Cal sure does know how to push his buttons. "You can still be in love with her without her moving in." _I just want things to go back to the way they were._

"Ah, so _that's_ what you're annoyed about! Mollie moving in." Cal has painted the same spot of the ceiling almost five times, his mind obviously focused elsewhere. "Alright, I should've asked if she could move in, but I didn't. You should be used to me messing up by now."

"No, I-"

"Face it, you said that it was fine and then got moody about it!" Cal says. "I just do _not_ get you sometimes, Eth. If it wasn't fine, why say yes?" _Because I don't want to upset you and lose you, Cal. I'm so lonely._

Ethan focuses on his anger and wants to get the painting roller to hit Cal over the head with it. "Yeah, and you get defensive!"

Cal inhales sharply. "I'm not going to argue with you. This is a friendly discussion."

Both know that this is far more than a 'friendly discussion' - Cal says so every time. "You already _are arguing_ with me." Ethan says irritably.

"Look, she's the one, okay?"

"Since when have you believed in _'the_ _one'_ , Caleb?" Ethan snaps. Finally, he loses it with Cal. "I'm sure you said the exact same thing with Taylor, and look how _badly_ that turned out!"

"Ah, that's so _you_ , Ethan. Typical. Lashing out because your own life is going to shit!" Cal glares down at Ethan from the stepladder. "What do you know about relationships? All you do is sit in your room and feel sorry for yourself."

"And all you do is waste time with a woman who will probably dump you when she's done - it won't last!" Ethan hisses. "You can tell me I'm ignorant when it comes with relationships, but even I can tell this is going to end in tears!"

"Ethan, I love her and you know that. Why do you have to… why do you have to do this?"

"Because it's _true_!"

Silence. Neither speak after he says that.

Cal resumes painting the ceiling calmly and he refuses to look at Ethan at all.

Ethan immediately regrets his words - he should've known better than to state the _obvious_. Those words were poisonous and he felt fortunate that they were no longer sitting on his chest. But some things are better left unsaid because Ethan can see the hurt in Cal's face from two foot down.

The silence hangs until Cal breaks it with a cold sentence.

"Have a _great_ day at work today, Ethan."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ethan walks into work immediately after their 'friendly discussion' with nothing in his stomach but anger, hurt and guilt. He honestly doesn't feel like eating, so he doesn't.

That makes him feel almost good - knowing that he could drop weight if he keeps it up. It's like an equation. A bad morning plus no food equals a better day immediately.

"Doctor Hardy?" Connie's voice comes from behind him as he shuts his locker. "May I have a word in my office?"

Ethan turns and puts his key in his pocket. He looks at her as a deer looks at a hunting rifle but for once, she looks less frightening. Somehow, he plucks up the courage to ask. "Is… is that entirely necessary? I just sort of want to get back to work."

Connie shakes her head. "No, it's not necessary,"

"Right, okay..."

She's not done. "I got a call from both your brother and Nurse Mollie Sanderson, calling in sick. I suppose we'll be understaffed and busy today, considering that."

Ethan nods, knowing that it's his fault but not feeling guilty enough to particularly mind. A day without Cal and Mollie publicly fawning all over each other seems perfect - despite the fact Cal probably now hates him. "Yes, I guess it will be."

"It's funny, Cal seemed perfectly healthy when I spoke to him the other day - as did Mollie." Connie says. "I don't suppose you'd know how they managed to acquire some sort of flu in under 24 hours?"

"No idea," Ethan says, overdoing his shrugging. "I'd, uh, better get to work." _I need the distraction._

"Of course," Connie says, nodding. She waits until Ethan gets to the staff room door before stopping him. "Doctor Hardy?"

"Yes, Mrs Beauchamp?"

Connie is hesitant but has a certain look on her face that Ethan cannot pinpoint. "My office door is always open if you need me."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I just can't… I just can't understand his way of thinking. I can't, Mollie."

Mollie continues calmly unwrapping the paintbrushes from their soft plastic packaging. She looks up at her pacing boyfriend, sighs, and then looks back down again.

"It's like whenever I'm happy, he has to be the little black cloud and rain all over it! I get it, I can be difficult sometimes… but so can he!" Cal exhales furiously. "I seriously envy you, Mollie. I honestly wish I was an only child."

"If you were an only child, which brother's flat would you be currently standing in?" Mollie asks. She looks up from sitting cross-legged on the ground at Cal pacing. "Put things into perspective, honey. It could be worse."

"Yeah, and it could be a lot better too." Cal complains. He sits down on the floor and plays with a paintbrush, flicking the hairs. "Sorry. I should stop bombarding you with all this."

"No, it's my fault anyway," Mollie says. She sighs guiltily. "My idea to move in has obviously put a spanner in the works. I'm sorry I caused the argument, really, and-"

"Stop it, you didn't. I still want you to move in."

Mollie smiles. Her worries are put to bed. "Glad to hear that, seeing as you've just finished painting our room."

"Wouldn't want to waste all that paint, no." Cal eventually smiles too. "It cost near on £40 for the paint along, you know."

Mollie shakes her head. "Jesus."

"I know, right?" Cal turns and glares at the paint can. "What's it made out of, liquid gold?"

"Hmm, it's ridiculous. I should've chosen a cheaper colour, but you'd imagine it wouldn't cost that much."

"No, I should've gone to the store and punched the paint guy. Might've got a discount," Cal says. "Or you could've. But they're tight bastards in that particular corner shop, so probably not."

Molle laughs. "I prefer this."

"Prefer what?"

"You being angry about paint rather than Ethan." Mollie says, smiling contentedly. "It's nicer."

"Yeah. Let's have a break from talking about him for a while," Cal decides with a small sigh. He gives Mollie a smile and lightly pats her on the head with a dry paintbrush. "Let's talk about _us_."

"Ah, my favorite subject. Talk away!"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Lunch time arrives but Ethan's appetite does not. Throughout the day, his will to eat is diminished. He isn't sad about it, though - quite the opposite.

In other news, he spends his time isolating himself from his colleagues whilst feeling the true heavenly blessing of an empty stomach. It's lonely, it's quiet, but it's better than pretending that everything is okay.

He notices Lily speaking to Iain by reception as he walks close and sighs. His notes were left there - meaning he'll need to pass her. Honestly, the phone call from a week ago still lingers freshly in his mind. With any luck, she'll just ignore him.

Such luck doesn't exist, apparently.

"Hey," Lily says, pausing her conversation with Iain to look at Ethan. Iain nods at him in acknowledgement, but Ethan can't help but think that Iain would rather he wasn't there so he could have Lily to himself. "Glad to see you're back at work."

"Yeah, you too. W-well, I mean, glad _I'm_ back to work, as you never went off work, and I-"

"I get it," Lily says, ignoring his frustratingly confusing ramblings. She knows him well - or at least, she used to. "Will you be free at lunch later? I wouldn't mind catching up."

Oh. Lunch. Ethan suddenly remembers the skinny man at the shopping centre, Cal's jokey comments, the number on the scale, and decides he'd rather skip lunch - just for today. It can't be bad if it's just once.

"Ah, no, sorry, I've got a ton of paperwork to get done."

Lily looks fractionally disappointed. "Oh, okay. Maybe another time."

"Maybe." The whole world suddenly lurches sideways and Ethan's head doesn't feel like it's screwed on quite right. He grips the side of the reception desk.

"You alright?" Iain asks in concern. It's the first thing he's said to Ethan in months.

Ethan nods quickly even though it does absolutely no favours for his dizziness. Perhaps he should've had breakfast - but then he'd loathe himself even more. "Just fine. We should probably get back to work."

"Good point. And as long as you're sure." Lily says with Iain by her side, but doesn't get a chance to await a reply as a trolley comes crashing through reception into resus. She hurries after it, following Connie's orders, and Iain heads off. Ethan's left alone, clutching the desk in order to keep standing up.

Despite this, he feels no regret having skipped breakfast at all.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As they've got the day off, Mollie figures they'd better make the most of it. Together, they stand outside in the freezing cold, armed with soapy sponges and a bucket of now dirty water, to try and remove some of the dirt caked on the car.

"This is completely stupid, how did you get the car _this_ bad?" Mollie questions, extending her arm to the top of the car. She has no need to hop to reach it - Mollie is tall at 5'9. "How many puddles have you driven through?"

"You probably don't want to know," Cal says. "I'll grab the hose."

"No, no, do the wheels first!"

"I can hose the wheels, Mollie, that's how you wash a car."

Mollie rolls her eyes. "Uh, no, you scrub them first."

"Oh, for… fine, let's scrub them first."

Mollie shakes her head but relishes in her success, smiling as she cleans the wheels. What she wasn't expecting was to feel the contents of the bucket to come pouring down on top of her head.

"Cal!"

"Oh, _whoops_!"

Her mascara was dripping and her once clean hair was now dirtier than the car. It's a good thing she'd been wearing her scruffs, or Cal would be lucky to get away with his legs. "Wow. That's _petty_. Fancy doing that to your _girlfriend_ , you pig."

Cal hides a smile. "It was an accident."

"Yeah, of course it was." Mollie sighs deeply. "I'm trying very hard to be zen right now."

Cal looks at the floor. "Alright, maybe it wasn't. I'm sorry. We'll finish the car later and you can have a bath or something. I forget you're not Max or Ethan or Jacob or Duffy sometimes - they don't mind it." _Most of the time._

Mollie nods. "Alright," Bitterly, she adds. "And I'll hold you to that - I'm filthy, thanks to you."

Cal looks guilty but is still smiling slightly at her sodden frame. "Being angry doesn't suit you, Mols. But I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to dump a bucket over my head."

"Maybe later," Mollie says with a sigh. Cal hooks his arm around her waist and kisses her forehead in apology. Eventually, Mollie smiles and they head inside - the car forgotten and the bucket-over-the-head-incident almost totally forgiven.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Throughout the day, Ethan hasn't eaten a single thing - it's great.

Regarding the other parts of the day which are not eating related were not so great.

Lily was preoccupied with Iain. Cal didn't bother to ring. Connie kept giving him watchful glances - Charlie too. Mollie didn't ring, but why would she? The patients ranged from challenging to boring, the former of which he couldn't deal with and the latter was just as difficult to stay engaged with. All in all, Ethan just knew he didn't deserve to eat tonight after what he'd accomplished - which was absolutely _fuck all._ So he would not.

He avoids the mirror, knowing that he's growing to hate what he sees in it, and changes from his scrubs to his usual attire. As it's freezing, Ethan wears as many layers as possible.

Actually, it's a bonus that summer _isn't_ that close - he can't stand to show his body. Not til it looks how he wants it to, that is.

After tying his scarf around his neck and zipping his jacket, Ethan says a quiet goodbye to his colleagues in passing - a few of them humoured him and acknowledged him - before heading home.

He dreads to think what Cal will be like when he arrives. Angry? Bitter? Upset? Hurt? Ethan just wants to sleep and forget about the nonsense.

When he arrives home on foot - he was too het-up to drive that morning and besides, walking is good for you - there's a sud covered Cal, bent over the car with a dripping sponge in hand.

Ethan walks over, half considering to just enter the flat and sleep. But his peacemaking trait is stronger than that.

"Hey."

Cal looks up momentarily. "Hiya."

"You're… cleaning the car."

"How observant of you," Cal says. "No wonder they call you the clever one."

Ethan tugs at his sleeves and sighs. "I just mean that you're being very productive today, that's all. It's, well, it's good."

"Yeah. It was Mollie's idea."

"Ah, right. So, uh, where is Mollie?" Ethan asks. Immediately, he has flashbacks of that morning's argument which started with that same bloody question. Cal seems to be too.

"Having a bath inside," Cal tells him, bending down and cleaning a part he'd missed. "I accidentally threw a bucket of water over her."

Ethan manages a little smile. "I bet she loved that."

"Well, she wasn't best pleased, but she didn't break up with me, so… plus, she gets a bath out of it."

"True." Ethan stands in silence, just watching as Cal cleans the car. Cal says absoloutely nothing, only sighing every now and then whilst wringing the sponge out.

Ethan considers walking inside and leaving it - clearly, Cal doesn't want to talk.

That's until his stomach rumbles.

Both stay very silent for a few seconds - until they both burst into laughter.

"You hungry, Ethan?"

Ethan blushes with embarrassment but manages to laugh at himself. "No, no, just… yes."

"Can't go two minutes without eating, can you?" Cal chuckles.

It's said in good nature but Ethan feels hurt by it. If only Cal knew he'd been starved of food all day. But of course, he never would.

Cal wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes and then smiles - he _actually_ smiles at him. Ethan immediately feels less tense.

"Rumbling stomach aside, how was work, then?"

"Uh, it was nice, thank you." Ethan says - relieved that there's normal conversation which is no longer one sided - and fidgets.

"Good." Cal smiles to himself and resumes washing the car, which is shining by this point. Ethan can't decide if his stomach has magically fixed the situation or if Cal is still angry.

There's a silence before Ethan looks at his feet and decides to just come out with it. "Are you still mad?"

Cal dips the sponge in the water thoughtfully. He shakes his head before replying verbally with a simple: "No."

Thank God. Ethan looks up from his feet and feels a huge weight lifted from his weary shoulders. Still, he's exhausted - but not as much. "Good. I've been thinking about it all day. I'm really sorry, you know."

"Don't be, I was just as much of an idiot as you were," Cal says. "Life's too short for this, right?"

Ethan nods - utterly relieved that they can put this to bed. "Agreed. Let's never argue again."

"I'm not sure if we can promise that," Cal stands up, and drops his sponge in the water. He looks at Ethan dotingly with a smile. "But we can try."

"Yeah."

Cal sighs gently, looking at Ethan sadly. "You okay today?"

Ethan shrugs and smiles. "Am now."

Cal dries his hands on his top and then takes two steps toward Ethan. "Not sure if I believe that. Come here, Eth."

Ethan sighs and lets Cal wrap his arms around him, locking him into a soft embrace. He rests his head on top of Ethan's. They fit together like a puzzle piece despite that the last time they hugged was so long ago. Standing in silence, there's only the sound of their gentle breathing and cars rushing past.

Ethan rests into Cal's chest. He smells like that cologne he always wears. It's the fragrance of home and comfort, something which Ethan has always associated with Cal - something that he really needs lately.

Cal breaks the silence in a gentle voice. "Can you promise me something?"

"Okay, what is it?"

"Can you promise me that, even though I'm with Mollie, we won't grow apart? Please? I don't want to be searching _Ebay_ for a new brother!"

"Of course we won't," Ethan says with a small laugh, tightening his grip and putting his hands on Cal's back. He has really missed this. "I promise." _I'll try so hard to not let that happen._

Cal sighs relievedly into Ethan's hair. They pull away slowly and Cal smiles fondly at Ethan, which is returned. Cal rests his hands on Ethan's shoulders, looking into his face.

"You can tell me anything, okay? You know that?"

Ethan smiles weakly. "I know." _I'm a liar._

Cal grins and wraps an arm around Ethan's shoulders, pulling him close. "Good."

With that, they leave the car in peace and enter the flat together as if that morning had never happened at all.

 **A/N:** _A bit of a soppy scene, whoops. Also, I hope you get the 'life's too short' reference. More soon - things will be going downhill from here if I get my act together and write it!_


	8. 7: Should Know Better

**Tracys dream:** _I'm happy you liked the part at the end and noticed the reference! Thank you for your review._

 **Txnightalive** _: Cal really does have no clue. Ethan must be feeling so isolated. And that means a great deal to hear, thank you for that AND thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Haha how dare I! And yay, I'm glad you liked the last chapter! Connie's way is a very low-key sort of approach. I'm glad you found it sweet. With the scene changes, I do them to add lightheartedness into this fic whilst Ethan's POV is sadder - I'm really happy they work. Glad you found the bucket incident funny, I thought it was something Cal would do. Cal has no idea what's wrong, but he doesn't want to talk about the emotional stuff because brothers (and often sisters) don't do that. Especially not these brothers! Glad you're happy they hugged, it made me 'squee' a little bit to write, haha. And yeah, he really doesn't need any sibling drama too! Thank you for your review!_

 **HolbyCityFanfics** _: And you are so, so, so, so kind. Thank you for your review!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Soppy is good, agreed. I hope you liked it. Thank you for your review!_

 **A/N:** _This is a very long chapter. Took me a while to put together - there's a lot of people drama right now, so I needed some time out. I hope you like this chapter and that it's not too long._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 **1st of February 2017**

Alright. Perhaps he should know better. After all, he is a _doctor_. Five years of medical school and more added on top of that should teach him certain things to do with dieting, weight, body image, what's healthy and what's definitely _not_. He should know that, to lose weight, it's a long process. It must be done patiently and correctly in order to be successful - no cutting corners. He really _should_ know better.

Ethan drops his sandwich into the staff room bin, making that the second meal he's thrown away today.

Clearly, according to his recent behavior, he doesn't know any better at all.

He hides the sandwich by taking some tissue off a roll and placing it in the bin. It shelters the sandwich from any view of suspicion. It sits, uneaten and untouched, as Ethan relishes in his starvation. It's a new found feeling which makes him feel brilliant.

The question is an obvious one. Does he regret it, skipping these meals?

And the answer is even more obvious. No. Of course not. If he loses weight, then damn the consequences! It's all he wants and it's all that makes him feel _good_. Who'd regret that?

In actual fact, cutting corners in terms of losing weight is his new best friend. It works the best, presently. It doesn't matter if it's not recommended, if it's slightly unorthodox or perhaps even slightly unsafe. If it works, it works - that's his perspective, anyway.

As three of his female colleagues flood in for lunch, with tubs of custard in their hands (he honestly has no idea what they're plotting), he exits without a word. Hushes of conversation, of which he isn't included in, fly by. He reaches the bathroom without anyone calling his name. When he's more than satisfied that he's the only one in the room, he steals the chance to check on his stomach situation.

Lifting his shirt and consulting the mirror, it says that he's lost weight.

Ethan breathes in relief. Yes, it's not entirely noticeable; but it's a change which he takes pride in noticing.

And ever since the start of this awful year, he's never quite gotten back into eating 'normally' anyway. When your mind forces food out of your hands and your stomach refuses to let it inside of you, it's obvious that the weight will melt off.

And it _has_ melted off. In fact, it still is.

 _What a shame_ , thinks Ethan - in total denial. _Being thin isn't what I'd like at all._

Jesus. He wants to vomit at his own bare-faced lies.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Mollie has made a decision.

Ever since Cal thought it was a fantastic idea to dump a bucket of filthy water all over her, she's been thinking of many ways to get him back. Childishness has never been a trait that she's grown out of, and that's fine by her. If that wasn't such a big part of her personality, perhaps she wouldn't have come up with such a good plan.

She's gotten both Robyn and Alicia in on it. They're more than happy to take part in her petty quest of revenge. After all, vengeance and bitching is a great bonding experience.

So, as lunch dawns upon them, it's time for the plan to unfold. They enter the staff room with their tubs of custard. Ethan had been standing there, looking as lost as he usually does, but left sheepishly as soon as they'd come in. Perfect - there's silence for them to sin.

Robyn holds the plastic bowl as Mollie and Alicia tip cold Ambrosia custard into it. She, surprisingly, is the only one with slight worries concerning the plan. "But.. what if Connie finds out?"

"She won't," Alicia says. "And if she does, I doubt she'll be angry about it. I can't count on one hand how many times I've wanted to tip custard over Cal's head. I imagine Connie feels the same."

Mollie nods and taps the bottom of the custard tub. "Empty. Yes, I doubt she'll care. The mess isn't an issue, either. We'll do it outside."

"Fine," Robyn says, appeased by their answers. "If you're sure."

"Positive." Mollie reassures. Kindly, she adds: "If you don't want to help, Robyn, you don't need-"

"Hey, I definitely want to help!" Robyn laughs.

Alicia grins and bins her custard tub. There's a sandwich in the bin, untouched. What a waste of money, she thinks. "You know, Mollie, I thought you'd do this sort of thing," Alicia says. "Cal's your _boyfriend_ , don't you usually surprise boyfriends with flowers and everything?"

"Not this boyfriend!" Mollie smiles, distinctly smug. "Right. We're just about done. Let's head outside, then we'll call him."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ethan feels so disconnected.

Disconnected to people who _were_ his friends, to work, to patients, and to reality. There's no way of being reconnected. Perhaps he's too far gone.

People - his colleagues - are talking in cubicles. Ethan stand by a desk in the very same location, reading text from a computer that doesn't seem to make sense. All he can hear is soft whispers of quiet conversation and his own pulse beating rapidly in his ears. He's still disconnected from everything and everyone.

"Afternoon, brother of mine," This voice is accompanied by two hard slaps on Ethan's weak shoulders. "You gonna do any work today or just stare at that computer?"

Ethan realizes, after a few seconds thought, that it's Cal. "Y-yeah, I'll… I'm doing work."

"Hmm, looks like it," Cal says. His tone is sarcastic. Then, he's distracted by something Jacob says and bursts into laughter. Ethan is forgotten.

And that's when it happens.

It all goes by so quickly. Reality shakes and darkness takes over. Ethan desperately tries to save himself but his arms won't work. Cal and Jacob rush forward and seize Ethan before he hits the floor.

Then reality comes back. Darkness is obliterated. He's back, he's alive, and he's feeling like total shit.

"Woah, you alright?" A voice questions. Must be Jacob. Ethan can't see much but he can feel hands gripping him tightly and is thankful. "You just fainted."

Ethan manages to find some words to speak. "No, I'm… fine. I'm fine."

A water bottle is thrust in his hands and the soft whispers of conversation get a little quieter. He can feel the glaring of eyes on him without even looking.

"I don't think so." That's Cal. Ethan still can't see straight but he can hear the worry. "I didn't see you have lunch earlier, Ethan. Or breakfast."

"I did, though." Ethan lies.

There's a small silence. "Right." Jacob says.

"Look, I just need to go back to work." Ethan insists and hands the water bottle back. His voice sounds weak even to him. "I really am okay."

The hands loosen as Ethan takes a step away. Then they grip him even tighter as Ethan's legs weaken and give way. Jacob catches Ethan and Cal steadies him.

"That's it. I'm calling you a cab, you're going home." Cal says. Ethan begins to refuse but Cal's stronger. "Nope. I'm not hearing it. Do as I say, Ethan."

Ethan wants to burst into tears. There he is, being stared at as though he's an artifact at a museum, needing two people to hold him up in order to actually stand. He truly hates himself.

"Cal?" Another voice comes from behind Ethan. It's Alicia. "Mollie needs you outside."

"Can it wait?"

"Nope!" Robyn's there too. She sounds mischievous. "Uh, is Ethan okay?"

"He's fine." Ethan says before Cal can. "Go, Cal, I have work to do anyway."

"No, you're going home-"

"No!"

Alicia and Robyn are getting impatient. "Cal!"

"Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming." Cal looks in pieces. He exchanges a look with Jacob. A sternness which is overpowered by concern comes into Cal's voice and expression. "Fine then, don't go home. But I'm telling Connie, and you're staying in the on call room for the rest of the shift."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cal follows behind both Alicia and Robyn. They walk very closely together, whispering. Cal sighs. All he can think about is Ethan - the stubborn idiot - but tries hard to change his thoughts.

When they reach the benches and coffee van outside, both women stop abruptly. Cal almost walks straight into them.

"Stand here." Robyn orders, pointing to a spot right next to the wall.

Cal obeys. "Why, though?"

Neither answer. Alicia takes a step back, as does Robyn.

"Now," Alicia says. She pauses and bites her smiling mouth. "Look up."

Cal, begrudgingly, does.

In no more than five seconds, there's cold and thick liquid which is poured onto his head. Cal cries out and immediately rubs his eyes. The world is a mess of yellow and disgusting smells.

"What the hell is this?" Cal splutters, absolutely horrified. "Is it… custard?"

There's peals of laughter coming from above him. Cal clears his eyes, rubbing his hands onto his jeans, and looks up top. There, standing near the railing on top of the hospital, is Mollie.

"Goddamnit, Mollie!" Cal yells. "It feels horrible!"

Mollie can't reply. From where she is, Cal can see her crying with laughter. She makes her way down the stairs from the top of the hospital. "I know - that's why I did it!"

Alicia wipes her eyes and nudges Robyn, who's too busy staring whilst giggling at Cal. Looking down, Cal feels a sludge of custard dripping down his nose, with yellow rat tails for hair and his jeans have handprints on them. Underneath him is more custard which has dripped from his sodden frame.

Mollie emerges from the stairs, standing by Alicia and Robyn. They all look smug and satisfied in a rather sisterly fashion. "Revenge is sweet, eh?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A soft knocking at the on call room is both a disturbance and blessing to Ethan, who is wrapped up in his thoughts. He is perched on the edge of the bed, too exhausted to move.

Ethan manages to say something, albeit lethargically. "Occupied."

"It's me. It's Charlie," Comes from behind the closed door. "Can I come in?"

Ethan closes his eyes, sighing deeply and purposefully. He wonders who told Charlie in irritation. "It's unlocked."

Charlie peers his head through the door as he opens it cautiously, as though he's wary of Ethan. He eyes Ethan up and down, particularly scanning his face, before walking in with more confidence. Charlie puts his hands in his pockets and looks at Ethan attentively.

"Right. What's going on with you, then?"

Ethan wonders if it's possible for a human being to run out of sighs. He's reached a point where he sighs more than speaks. "Nothing."

Charlie sits beside him. "Looks a little more than _'nothing'_ to me."

"Everything's okay, I swear," Ethan reassures. Then his suspicion grows. "Cal sent you, didn't he?"

Charlie shakes his head. "No."

Ethan sighs again. Liar. Either Cal did, or Jacob sent him. He doesn't care enough to work it out. "Am I in trouble, then?"

"Only a little bit," Charlie says. "I know it seems ludicrous as it wasn't your fault, but you fainted in admin - where patients could see you. So, yes, you're in a small amount of trouble. Connie's sending you home. I wouldn't cross her if I were you."

"Why not?"

"Ah, she's having a bad day as it is. I think the stress of one of her colleagues collapsing may push her over the edge," Charlie says. As an afterthought, he adds: "I'm not guilt-tripping you, alright? Just make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It won't." Ethan says quickly. Despite Charlie's words, he's guilty as hell. Connie's been through the mill enough without _him_ screwing things up.

Charlie smiles in satisfaction. "Good. Shall I call you a taxi, then?"

Ethan's about to reply when the on call room opens, revealing Cal.

"Ethan. Charlie." Cal greets. Both men's eyes widen. "We can head home now, Eth, I'm just about done."

It would've all been completely normal if Cal hadn't been dripping, head to toe, with custard.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

All three of them, including the custard drenched couple, head home. The drive home is filled with nothing but talking. Mollie looks at Cal every five minutes and laughs, whilst he rolls his eyes and complains about being uncomfortable. He's sitting on a towel, but he's managed to get the steering wheel covered. The logical thing to do would've been getting changed at work, but Cal was too horrified.

"Can you _stop_ laughing at me?" Cal insists, biting his cheeks and refusing to see the funny side. Mollie just turns in the passenger seat, burying her head in her hands. Ethan thinks she's finally stopped giggling but the shaking of her back indicates otherwise.

"You do look ridiculous, Cal." Ethan says, hiding a smirk.

"Well, looking awful must run in the family then, looking at you," Cal says moodily. Ethan disguises his hurt with a laugh, knowing that Cal doesn't mean it.

He _doesn't_ mean it, he _doesn't_ mean it, and he _doesn't_ mean it.

He doesn't.

"Stop thinking so much, Eth, I was joking," Cal sighs. "We're home," Cal changes the subject as they pull into the block of flats car park. "Right, what are we having for dinner, then?"

"No idea, Cal," Mollie says. She wipes the tears from her eyes. From the back seat, Ethan can see the mischief in her eyes as she turns."But, uh, I know what we're having for dessert - something covered in custard."

Ethan and Mollie burst into helpless peals of laughter as Cal groans and exits the car. They don't stop for a very long time.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

As they return home, Ethan goes straight to his room for a nap. The world was still wobbly around the edges, like a photograph where the colour blurs because it's been left near water.

However, the nap doesn't last long. Ethan would say it lasted a precious five minutes.

" _EEETTHHHHAAANNNN_!" Cal's shouting makes Ethan's ears hurt.

"What?" Ethan calls back in a considerable drop of volume to his brother. He sighs and musters the will to get out of bed.

"Come and get dinner!" Cal shouts. Ethan feels a knife plunge into his stomach and twists it. He really had hoped that they'd leave him to sleep - really, that's why he'd gone for a nap in the first place.

"I...I'm not hungry!"

"You will be when you see it!"

Ethan groans to himself and makes his way sluggishly to wherever Cal was. He promises himself to make up some form of an excuse as to why he isn't hungry.

"What?"

Cal and Mollie are sitting on the sofa as he enters. Cal is clean of custard and Mollie's hysterical laughter has halted. The television is on and glaring brightly, whilst a takeaway pizza rests on the coffee table. The box is open, containing a cheese pizza which stares at him.

Of course, Ethan knows that food couldn't stare, but it sure seems like it is.

"I know how you feel about cheese," Cal grins jokingly. He's a lot less grumpy than he was earlier, but Ethan can't miss the small stain of custard behind his ear. "Your one true love, eh?"

Ah, yes, back before he decided to shift the fat that had made itself at home on his body. Now, he can't think about eating cheese. He can't think about eating anything. All day, he's survived off of nothing. He can make it through another day without eating.

"Uh, yeah." Ethan nods. "I do like cheese. Uhm...Can you save me some for later, please? I don't feel that great, to be honest."

"I thought you looked pale," Mollie says, taking a little bite out of her pizza. "Stomach bug? Headache? Oh, God, it's not a migraine, is it?"

"I think it's just old fashioned exhaustion, nothing to be worried about. It's easily fixed." Ethan lies, keeping his voice straight with no stammering. He's getting fluent in lying.

"Just have one?" Mollie says.

Cal looks at Ethan intensely. "We don't want another repeat of earlier, do we?"

Ethan feels sick at both the memory of collapsing and the smell of the pizza. He has no choice. He has to eat. "Course, yes, I'll have one."

"Good," Cal grins. He pats the place on the sofa next to him and passes Ethan the pizza.

Ethan flops down on the sofa, the other side of his brother as Mollie was to the left of him.

He manages half of the pizza slice before it gets stuck in his throat and the guilt is too much to bear. Despite it being what his body has been crying for, his mind is screaming for him to stop. No, no, no!

The rest of the pizza is put into his pocket when nobody's looking. Ethan swallows miserably and rests his head against Cal's arm as he pretends to watch the film.

Sure enough, in a few minutes, Ethan has fallen asleep against Cal with nothing but calories and regret in his mind.


	9. 8: Bruised Knuckles

**Tanith Panic:** _Thank you for all three of your reviews, I was overjoyed to read them! I'm glad you liked the custard bath. There's a lot of people who could help Ethan in the future - we'll just have to see if they're up to it. Thank you again for your reviews!_

 **Tracys dream:** _Thank you for your review, I hope you like this chapter!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Am either an overwriter or an underwriter, there's no in-between! Glad to hear that though. And Ethan is in denial, definitely, he's trying to convince himself that he's in control and that he doesn't want to do it. I'm happy you like the humour. Thank you for your review!_

 **A/N:** _In case anyone is confused by this alternate universe, the brothers were not adopted but they did have the drama with Matilda - who still doesn't belong to Cal._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **5th of February 2017**

Pushup after pushup, sit-up after sit-up, he carries on. Ethan's forehead is dripping with sweat and his lungs are struggling to accept air. He stops for one reason which is that he just physically _cannot_ continue.

Well, the few slices of apple he had forced down for breakfast are definitely burnt off now.

Ethan gets to his feet. Instinctively, he grips the kitchen counter and ignores the shake of his legs. It's all worth it, he knows this.

"Right," Ethan mutters to himself. He takes out his tape measure and wraps it around his middle half. Then he smiles - he's lost more weight from the last time he checked. "That's good."

"Ethan, you in?"

He jumps in shock at the sound of the front door swinging open. Goddamnit. Cal's home to distract him, just when Ethan was thinking about perhaps making a small snack. Or maybe it's a sign from above - he doesn't _need_ a snack.

"Yes, I'm home!" Ethan calls back.

It's only then he realises that he is dressed in jogging trousers and a t-shirt drenched with sweat. Before he has time to hide this, Cal has wandered in.

"Hey, what are you-" Cal looks at Ethan strangely as he walks into the kitchen. "Are you sweating? What've you been up to now?"

Ethan racks his brains for an excuse. He knows full well of the consequences if Cal finds out he's been exercising - an hour long lecture about how their parents used to do so much of it and ' _you don't want to end up like that, Ethan'._

No. He decides to do what he always does - lie.

"Uh, yeah, I am. I just woke up, actually. Had a nightmare and woke up drenched with sweat," Ethan says, doing his best to sound truthful despite his words being the opposite of this. "Weird. I must've eaten too much cheese or something. That gives you bad dreams, doesn't it? I'm sure there was a study on it, anyway-"

"Alright, nerd, I believe you." Cal holds his hands up in mock surrender. "As long as you haven't been doing the dirty in my bed with someone then I couldn't care less."

"As if I would," Ethan laughs in a fashion that he hopes isn't too nervous sounding. "Anyway. Why are you home? I thought you were working."

Cal looks at the floor rather sheepishly. "Okay, so I may have got the dates mixed up. Turns out I've actually got the day off. I really wish Connie would've told me that, rather than letting me get paperwork done, as now I've wasted almost half my day off!"

"Seriously?" Ethan can't help but smile. "I can't believe that. Well, I actually can, knowing you."

"And what's that meant to mean?" Cal chucks a tea towel at his brother, and then crosses his arms, whilst leaning against the kitchen counter. "I'm responsible and organised."

"Completely, yeah." Ethan nods sarcastically, catching the tea towel and smiling. "Of course you are."

Cal shakes his head with a smile. "Whatever..." He clears his throat. "Anyway, don't suppose you'd like to do anything today? If you can clear your obviously busy schedule for me, that is."

Ethan jumps at the chance. Finally - a distraction from his mind. This'll be fantastic. "No, no, I'm not busy."

"Good. Where'd you want to go?"

 _Anywhere, as long as I'm with you, Cal._ "Wherever. Just not a strip club, please." _Nowhere involving food, I mean._

Cal grins. "I'm a changed man now, Ethan. Mollie's fixed that part of me. She's what I've needed, really." _All you've needed? What about me? Please don't change or forget me._

Ethan forces a smile. "Right, okay. Good. Uh, now, then?"

Cal nods with enthusiasm. "Yeah, let's."

"Just… just us?" Ethan asks. He keeps expecting Mollie to pop around the corner. "Not anyone else?"

"No, Eth," Cal says, pulling his leather jacket on. He gives Ethan a smile. "Just us."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cal is very calm. Extremely. He's been very reserved, very tame and very well-behaved.

In other words, he hasn't been very Cal at all.

Ethan supposes it's Mollie's influence. She's a sort of calming presence that makes you feel relaxed by simply looking at her.

Perhaps another factor is the knowledge that their relationship is on the rocks. Cal doesn't want to rock the boat and fuck it up. Neither does Ethan.

It's nice, to put it mildly- the calmness and gentleness. But he prefers Cal at his most uncensored. Ethan knows it's only a matter of time before the act wears off and he can't wait for it.

"So," Cal begins. Both are sitting in Cal's car, waiting as traffic moves as slowly as jam through a strainer. Cal's fingers tap rhythmically against the steering wheel. "You alright?"

"Um, yeah, I'm fine." Ethan nods. At this moment in time, he is. He's with his big brother, who seemingly wants to be with him, and he has no calories in his stomach. Perfect. "Why d'you ask?"

"I was just wondering." Cal says. He mutters a small ' _thank God_ ' as the traffic jam eases. "I dunno, 2016 was a shit year. I just hope 2017 will start to work out better for us both."

"Me too," Ethan says wholeheartedly. He's sure that it's already gotten off to a rather bad start, but at least he's got a direction now. "I'm sure it will be."

Cal nods. "Well, look at it this way," He says. "It really can't be any worse than last year, that's for certain." Cal suddenly slams on the breaks and curses bitterly at the driver in front of them. "Jesus Christ, ever learn to drive, you complete moron?! Yeah, go on, slow down!"

Ethan shakes his head but can't stop himself from smiling. To be honest, the whole 'Perfect Brother' act is nice, but Ethan prefers the real thing - swearing and all.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They finally arrive at the cinema after beating the troublesome weekend traffic and almost sprinting (while squealing like schoolgirls) through the pouring rain. Cal jokes that it was the most exercise he'd had in weeks. Ethan forces a grim smile.

"Right, I'll join the queue, you grab the popcorn. Large, please!" Cal says, doing one of those slaps on the back before rushing off to leap in said queue.

Ethan begrudgingly walks over to get popcorn from the small stand. If it were up to him, he wouldn't get any at all. It's unnecessary. He doesn't even want to eat meals, let alone pointless snacks. Cal would never understand this.

The sugary stench of the popcorn was so overpoweringly strong that Ethan is near on convinced that the air now had calories in it. He thanks the man by the stand, pays, and heads back to Cal.

So many people, utterly blind to the shit they're putting into their bodies. Sugar sprinkled popcorn sounds lovely, but when you add up the calories then it gets a little ugly. But nobody counts the calories, it seems.

"Sorry, sorry, excuse me, sorry..." He quickly makes his way through the queue, apologising profusely for his clearly hated existence and finally reaches his chilled-out brother. "Got it."

"Ah, awesome!" Cal says, diving in and grabbing a handful of hot popcorn. "They really skimp on the portion sizes nowadays, don't they"

Ethan nods in meek agreement. "Yes, they do." He decides not to mention that he'd actually brought a small portion, rather than the requested large one

Cal thanks the man at the register, accepting the tickets and confidently walking past the masses of people in the cinema. Ethan tags along behind, casually dropping his handful of popcorn in the bin as they passed.

"Come on then, nibbles," Cal sits down onto the seat and reaches for the popcorn. "Are you not going to have any?" _God no._

"I did earlier," Ethan says immediately.

A lightning bolt of fear strikes him suddenly. He hadn't even planned to lie. But still, he automatically had done. That scares and fascinates him a little.

"Oh, 'kay." Cal nods, lapping the lie up and turning to face the giant screen. "Perfect timing, look, the film's about to start!"

"Ah, great!" Ethan forces a smile and attempts to engage himself in the film as it begun. Sadly, it was to no avail.

His mind is glued on worrying about what they'd be eating for lunch later. With the knowledge that he can't get out of it, he frets even more.

Ethan sighs. He wishes he could just enjoy the time he gets with his brother, but he can't. It seems like all he's good for is worrying over how to make himself thin.

Cal is oblivious and none of the wiser to Ethan's thoughts - the same as he will always be.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The world's tightest belt is fastened snugly around his stomach.

Cal has decided to take them both to a bar for lunch. Not the bar near Holby; a more expensive one. Apparently, Cal said that _Mollie_ said they did great burgers and they're worth the money. Ethan begs to differ.

As soon as they sit down at a table, the belt gets much tighter.

"What do you want?" Cal asks. Ethan can see him look at the children's colouring in and knows he's just aching to do it. "I know what I'm having. Alcohol. And a lot of it."

"Really? It's only just one in the afternoon - oh, you were joking," Ethan shakes his head at his smirking brother, who has gotten far more comfortable over the course of the hours. Ethan laughs but it sounds a bit forced. No wonder - the belt is making it hard to breathe, let alone laugh.

"Nah, I'll just get a burger with chips or something." Cal smiles. He gives into the temptation and picks up the colouring in. Cal fills in a dragon with purple crayon as Ethan smiles. Such a child. "Same?"

"Uhm," Ethan pauses and his happy thoughts are gone. If Ethan had his way, he'd have absolutely nothing. But he was with Cal, so the idea of going hungry is a pipe-dream. "Y-yeah, sure. Sounds good."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Their food arrives. It is pretty posh looking for a pub meal, as Cal has commented several times. Ethan is entranced by the portion size. It's nothing short of terrifying.

For a start, the burger is enormous. The meat glistens with oil and the red sauce looks far too much like blood. There's the odd tomato, gherkin and piece of lettuce. Ethan hates them all. He doesn't know the calorie number and it's making his mind tick. The chips don't look _as_ scary but perhaps that was because there was only a few of them. Either way, Ethan isn't looking forward to eating it.

A nudge of the shoulder distracts him. "Hey, you good?" _No, I'm in hell and I hate it._

Ethan nods hastily. "Yes, of course, I am." He pushes his social mask back on and tries to convince himself to be happy about spending time with Cal. He _is_ happy - someone just needs to tell his face that. "Completely."

"Alright," Cal says, sipping his coke and accepting Ethan's response. He doesn't probe him any further.

Ethan notices his own, the ice cubes melting inside the glass cup, and wished he'd ordered a water instead. If only he'd corrected the waiter.

"So, about Charlie's stag do..." Cal says with a big and mischievous grin arriving on his face. "He put me in charge of it. I've made a plan, actually. First, we all go to the pub-"

"Of course." Ethan smiles.

"Of course," Cal repeats, smiling back. "Then, we get a few drinks, wait for everyone to arrive, and then we hit the town. I've let Dylan drive the minibus, hopefully, he won't screw it up or anything. I doubt he would, it's only a small journey until we reach the nightclub."

Ethan murmurs in acknowledgement as he flicks his chips, prolonging his avoidance of actually eating them. Then he panics. Even touching them seems wrong.

"I've invited loads of people so it should be nice and busy, lots of booze, lots of hot strippers-" Cal stops in absolute horror. "Please don't tell Mollie I said that. I won't even look at them, honestly. They don't match how pretty she is, anyway."

"I won't." Ethan reassures quietly. Cal really is besotted with her.

"Good, I don't want to screw this one up," Cal breathes in relief. He then picks up his burger, as if it isn't a big deal at all, and takes a giant bite from it. "Anyway," Cal continues, mouth half-full. "The stripper who I got for Charlie will give him some special stag-night treatment, just for a laugh."

Ethan listens as best as he can, but it's difficult when his mind is having a long argument about what a total _idiot_ he is for allowing himself to be ordered the burger with chips.

Cal just keeps talking between mouthfuls, giving detailed descriptions of how the night was going to go and how drunk he'd get everyone.

All the while, the food is staring at Ethan. It often does that, almost as if it senses fear.

"Ethan, stop looking like that, you're making me anxious!" Cal laughs. "Your burger is going cold. Jeez, what is up with you today?"

"Nothing's up," Ethan says, forcing a joking smile. "Stop asking, I'm fine." _Please, please_ s _top asking - otherwise I'll cave in and tell you._

"Then eat, idiot." Cal shakes his head whilst smiling. "It won't kill you!"

 _It may as well do,_ Ethan thinks. _If I even gain a little bit of weight because of this, death will be welcoming._

It feels like a sack of sand had been dropped on him as he thought that. Ethan is slightly shocked by his own thoughts - which admittedly are rather dramatic.

Cal is completely right. It won't kill him. And besides, the food _is_ getting cold.

"Yeah," Ethan nods. He picks up a chip. "Sorry. You were saying?" _Distract me._

"Oh yeah," Cal resumes where he left off.

Ethan hates it. He wants to recoil as soon as he'd taken a bite of the burger, but he couldn't. Every single part of him is screaming to stop eating. That it is a mistake, a really bad one. But he keeps going. It's a hard slog and minutes feel like hours.

He feels so ashamed of himself when his plate is cleared.

Worst of all, he doesn't even know why he feels so ashamed.

But, sure enough, tears are prickling behind his glasses as he realises exactly what he's done.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Completely useless and a failure.

Fat.

He needs to get out. Right now. If not, he's going to end up crying in front of everyone in the pub.

"Cal?" Ethan's voice cracks as he interrupts his brother and desperately pushes his plate away . "I'm actually just going to nip to the bathroom. I won't be long."

Cal nods in acknowledgement. "Okay, well, we're just about done. I'll pay, then. Meet you outside?"

"Yes, meet you there," Ethan hardly let Cal finish his sentence. He half walks, half runs to the bathroom whilst trying to bite his tears back.

He pushes open the door. Immediately, he feels immense relief that nobody was in there. He approaches the mirror. With a red face and watery eyes, he helplessly tries to push his stomach inwards. If it could be like plasticine then he could shape himself and make it go inwards rather than outwards. That'd be amazing.

Oh, God. It sticks out.

Ethan wants to cry in a big heap on the floor. The food is making him so much fatter. He really, really, _really_ shouldn't have eaten any of that. He covers his face with his hands, pacing the bathroom, and tries to think of a solution.

In the time it'd take for him to be alone again, it'll be way too late to exercise it off. Far too late. It won't work and Ethan knows it.

He has to get rid of this food - he really has to.

Whatever it takes.

It's like his body isn't _his_ anymore. Instinct has taken over. Shaky hands desperately shove open the cubicle door and he drops to his knees, barely caring as they hit the stone cold floor.

Without a second thought, he shoves his fingers down his throat.


	10. 9: Losing Weight and Friends Too

**Guest** : _Thank you so much. I hope your friend is well and yourself, I can only imagine how hard it must've been on you both. Thank you very much for your review._

 **Casslourocks** : _Hopefully Cal will notice something is wrong soon. Thank you so much, your last sentence made me smile too. Thank you very much for your review._

 **Tanith** **Panic** : _Glad you think it's getting better. I love it when people notice the little details, it means a lot. And I did research, apparently stomachs do tend to become distended when someone is starving, I'm glad you noticed that. Glad you like the mix. Thank you for your review and loveliness._

 **CBloom2** : _Me neither, I think everyone has had some sort of issue in their lives over body image/weight/food etc, but Ethan really is having a rough time. Let's hope Cal does. Thank you for your review and kind words._

 **Tracys** **dream** : _I'm happy you think so, thank you for your review and kindness._

 **InfinityAndOne** : _The vomiting on purpose was foreseeable, agreed. He's in a bad mindset right now. I wasn't sure on the first person parts but I'm glad you like it. Ethan really is haunted by it, he's seeing it as something of a nightmare to eat. Cal is a little bit suspicious and you make a good point. Thank you so much for your review and kind words._

 **A/N:** _Sorry for the wait, kind of lost interest for a while. Some people are really awful on this site... but you lovely lot make it worth it!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **10th of February 2017**

"Morning!"

Lily hardly looks up from her paperwork. "Morning, Ethan."

Ethan swallows nervously and rubs the back of his neck, standing as close as socially acceptable to her. It's extremely challenging to not feel like a pestering child when people take that tone.

"So, uh, how are you?" Ethan asks. "I haven't spoken to you much recently."

Lily places her paperwork down on the desk in admin and ponders this. "I believe I'm okay, thank you. I've been busy thinking about ways to advance my career - it keeps you up at night if you're unsure of what your future has in it."

Ethan nods in acknowledgement. Lily's favorite subject has always been her own career and ways she can further it, that's something that'll never change. "Right. Have you come to any conclusions?"

"Yes. I'm going to sit my consultancy exams as soon as possible and become a consultant. I've officially decided."

There's a pause as Ethan can't find words to formulate a response. He certainly wasn't expecting her to come out with that. "Wh… what, really?"

"Really," Lily says. "It makes sense, doesn't it? I've gotten to that point where I've realized that I'm an exceptional registrar and it makes so much sense to further my career. It'd be a travesty not to."

"Yes, certainly. I don't, uh, disagree with that. But, well, don't you feel as though it's a little soon? You haven't really been a registrar for very long."

Lily shakes her head in confidence. "No. It's not too soon at all. In fact, I'm off to speak to Connie about it right now."

"Oh."

"I've also got a paper to write for Henrik Hanssen upstairs. It's just about decoding medical lingo - it'll be used as an example piece for students."

"Why?" Ethan asks, hoping he isn't sounding nosey. "It's a little unfair to ask you to do extra work which isn't necessary-"

"I asked to do it. Admittedly, I probably shouldn't have - now I'm rushed off my feet and I have no time."

"Ah," Ethan shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to think of what to say in condolences. "Right."

"Anyway. I'd better go and see Mrs Beauchamp," Lily says, looking at him. Ethan gathers that this means he should go away.

He ignores the hint shamefully. "I'll just walk you there, then," She doesn't look too pleased but doesn't protest. Ethan follows her as she walks to Connie's office. He doesn't want her to go - he _doesn't_ want to be lonely. "Can we, uh, do something later? If you're free?"

Lily's brow creases in confusion. "Like what?"

Ethan feels his skin go all hot. He had expected her to downright refuse him, but she hasn't gotten to that point yet. Damnit, he hadn't thought this far. "Well. Uh. You know, I… I can start writing the paper for you! We could, well, do it together?"

This seems to be a good idea as Lily stops and looks at him in interest. "Really?"

Ethan leaps at the chance. "Yeah, really!" If this is the only way he can get her to pay attention to him, then so be it. "I mean, I could write bullet points and get it started… saving you some time, perhaps, as you talk to Connie. Then, you can do the rest yourself or we can do it together."

"Yes. That'd be fantastic, actually. Can you write the bullet points and everything so it's done by lunchtime?"

Ethan nods eagerly. "Of course. By lunchtime sounds good."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

After drinking an entire bottle of water for lunch and nothing else, Ethan is hit by excruciating hunger pains accompanied by sickness. They feel like little bolts of lightning as soon as he moves and the sickness comes and goes. It's sort of like the tide. But the tide never goes, it comes again and again, so it seems as though this sickness never will either.

There's a clearing of a throat behind him. "Have you done it yet?"

Ethan supposes that saying _'hello'_ to start a conversation is obviously rare by now, as nobody seems to say it, and turns to see Lily.

"Uh, yeah, of course," Ethan says through gritted teeth. "It's in my locker. You can go there if you want, I'll follow you and get it out."

Lily does so. He follows her with the insistent fear that he'll keel over in pain or the nausea will get too much - but, fortunately, it doesn't.

They make it to the staff room without any accidents. Ethan gets the paper out and passes it to her, which she reads intently. Whilst she's busy, Ethan finds himself some painkillers and pours himself some water.

"Fantastic," Lily says as Ethan sits down. She doesn't notice the painkiller disappearing into his water or his paleness. "Thank you for that."

Ethan manages a smile. "It's my pleasure."

"I'd better get on, but I'll finish it later," Lily folds it up and puts it into her pocket. Ethan cringes at the crease marks in his carefully printed paper but tries not to. "Oh. Also, do you mind me asking an opinion?"

"Not at all."

"Alright, thank you. So, a mother, 36, is suffering from depression. Her notes confirm this - she was diagnosed a few years ago. That's a bit of background for you. But for her current medical condition, she's been hospitalised with a simple burn on her wrist."

Ethan listens keenly. "Right."

"But that's not the problem. The problem is that she's extremely malnourished. I believe that she's starving herself," Lily pauses as Ethan's heart hammers, unknown to her. This sounds a little too close to home. "As you know, starving oneself is a form of self harm. And self harm isn't uncommon with those with depression."

Ethan bites back an 'I know' response and nods for her to continue.

"She has three children - two girls, one boy. She adores them," Lily sighs heavily. "But I can't help but feel as though she's an unfit mother. I'm in two minds whether or not to call social services."

Ethan forgets his pain, his nausea and his manners. "What? No, Lily, _no_. Are you sure that she has stopped eating?"

"Positive."

"You can't technically be sure unless she confirms this, though. Besides, people with depression don't always self harm and vice versa. Lily, you know this. Perhaps she just doesn't feel like eating."

Lily shrugs. "Well, she's very shifty around when we ask if she's been eating enough. It's as though she's guilty. Red flags, Ethan."

Ethan swallows hard. "We can get her to talk to a psychiatrist? I think it's jumping the gun a little, calling social services."

"My point still stands. If she's self-harming by refusing to eat, she could be dangerous to her children. She may deny them of food too."

Ethan looks at Lily with his mouth agape. Unbelievable. He can't speak for a few moments, dumbfounded. Then he does, his words laced with shameful bitterness. "Have you seen her children?"

Lily nods. "Yes."

"Did they look malnourished? Starving? Unhealthy?"

There's a brief pause. "Well, no."

"Well, you said yourself that she adores her children," Ethan says. "Why would you possibly think that she'd hurt them? Not only is that-"

Lily cuts him off. "Ethan, you need to stop being so defensive," She sighs deeply and frustratedly. "I asked for an opinion, not a debate. I don't understand what's up with you. If we can't be adults about this, I'll ask someone who will be."

"No, no. I'm… I'm sorry," Ethan says quickly. "I shouldn't have snapped. Should I, uh, speak to her? I could help."

"No. I think you've done enough." Lily replies.

"I could-"

"As helpful as you're being today, it's borderline irritating and patronizing," Lily finally spits out. The words feel like a kick in the gut. "I am a perfectly capable doctor."

"I...I know," Ethan nods, looking at the floor. _Oh, fuck, I've messed this one up._ "I just wanted to help."

Lily looks at him questioningly. "Or you wanted for me to look incompetent, leeching off of you, so I'd lose all hope in sitting the exams? Am I close?"

"No!" Ethan stands up as she does, following after her as she struts off out of the staff room. "Lily, please, I didn't mean to be like that. I just wanted to help."

" _You_ just wanted to make me seem inadequate."

Ethan swallows, nothing short of terrified. He's going to lose his friend of three years if he isn't careful. That was never his intention! "I… no, that's not… I just, I just wanted to help. It… it, well, I was trying to help."

"Well, you did the opposite thing," Lily snaps. Her sharp voice attracts a fair amount of attention from any bystanders, but it also fortunately scares them off too."I will become a consultant even when you don't. You're clearly pre-occupied."

"How… how do you mean?"

Lily gives him a look, her brown eyes slanted and her neat eyebrows knitted together. "It doesn't take an idiot, Ethan."

"What?"

Lily sighs and shakes her head. "You know what? Nevermind."

Ethan clasps his hands together anxiously and follows her in desperation. "No, please, let's not leave it at that. I'm not preoccupied. And you looked stressed so I thought I'd take some weight off your shoulders. There is no other motive there! I'm just… trying to help a friend."

"If you were my friend, you'd know not to take pity on me." Lily rests her hands on the desk of admin, curling and uncurling her fingers in frustration. "Perhaps it's best if we're not even friends anymore, clearly, you don't support me."

"Let's not jump the gun, that's a bit-"

Lily cuts him off furiously. "Stop it! Look, just leave it. Go and starve yourself or something, as that's all you seem to want to do!"

Admin immediately hushes. She had said it quietly and sharply enough, but the words had reached Ethan's ears and stabbed him. His heart and stomach drop. The Lily he knows would never say that, but she has changed so much now.

How does she _know_?

Lily looks at Ethan in complete shock. She closes her mouth which had been agape and quickly shakes her head. If only sentences were receipts - then you could take them back.

"No, I… I didn't mean…" Lily says eventually and sighs regretfully. "I didn't mean that."

His eyes are filling with tears before he can stop it. A harsh undertone creeps into his words, making him hate himself even more. "You've got this so wrong, Lily. But you're right about one thing. Maybe we shouldn't even bother being friends." _I need to shut the fuck up._

Lily shakes her head wordlessly with glossy eyes. She can't say anything and neither does he.

Eventually, with his head bowed, he manages to whisper a very soft apology. "I'm sorry, okay? Let's just quit while we're ahead. It's not that big of a problem. We can't ruin three or more years because of this. Please?" _I can't lose you._

Lily shakes her head. "It doesn't it matter, Ethan. We're not friends anymore, remember?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It's evening time when Ethan finally gathers his remaining scraps of courage to ask. Cal is in the kitchen with his phone in his hand as Ethan approaches him.

"Cal?" Ethan says. Cal looks up briefly, but then looks down again. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Cal switches his phone off hesitantly. "Sounds ominous."

"It's… it's not, really."

"Hmmm. Yeah, okay, go on then. I've got a few minutes until Mollie's ready to go."

Ethan's forehead creases. "Go where?"

"Just on a date. Thought I'd treat her at a nice restaurant or something."

Of course. Of bloody _course_ Cal is going out on a day when Ethan can't stand to be alone.

No, shut up! Ethan mentally berates himself. Stop being so selfish. Cal deserves to go out and have a fantastic time with Mollie. Ethan wishes he could smack himself over the head.

"Ah, right. Sounds… good."

"Yeah, it will be," Cal smiles, seemingly unaware of the mental beating Ethan is giving himself inside his head. "You'll have to make yourself dinner."

"I always cook anyway." _Regardless of whether or not I eat it, I always make it._

Cal shrugs. "No problems then. You'd better get busy, nibbles."

Ethan nods without a word. Quietly, he pulls out a pack of potatoes and begins skinning them. Sausages and mash will do, Ethan thinks. He hates that meal - as does he with every meal - but, regardless, he won't be eating it. Ethan pulls out the sharpest knife in the drawer and slices potatoes, dropping them into a saucepan wordlessly. Cal watches.

They don't say anything for a while. Perhaps the silence is borderline awkward, but Ethan sinks back into his thoughts for such a long time that he doesn't notice. All he can think about is Lily's face, twisted in frustration, and shivers. Nobody seems to want to stay - even Cal is vacating the flat with his perfect girlfriend.

God, Ethan needs to talk. He knows he does. This burden that he's created is resting in his chest and speaking will lift it. Cal's here - he'll listen, won't he?

"Do… do you mind if I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, yeah." Cal sounds bored. When Ethan looks, it's because he's now on his phone. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

"It's not a big deal, I just-"

"Spit it out, nibbles."

"Okay," Ethan focuses his eyes on his hands. "It's just Lily. We...well, there was a lot of drama this morning. I was speaking to her and she said that she wants to sit her consultancy exams-"

"Hold up. Seriously? She's a _little_ too inexperienced."

"Yeah, that's what I tried to say! She just insisted that Connie would allow her and I suppose she might do. Then I offered to do something for her, so I did. She asked for my opinion on a patient so I said yes and then we ended up having a row over it Now I just don't know what to do."

Cal sighs a little and ponders over this. "Tricky. Well, maybe it's worth letting it blow over. It will do. I've fought with Lily so many times I've lost count, and each time we reconciled. The same will happen with you guys."

"So I just leave it then?" Ethan says, turning his head away from his task and looking at Cal. He chops potatoes simultaneously, dumping them into the pan messily. "I can't, Cal."

"Yeah, you can. Just wait it out. She'll come back begging for forgiveness, and if not then I'm sure you will!" Cal laughs. "Honestly, Ethan, you think far too much."

Ethan bites his mouth and decides against any bitter remarks of ' _you think too little'_. That's unfair. And besides, Cal is trying to help in his own funny way. "Fine. But it'll be awkward tomorrow."

"You should be used to awkwardness by now, Ethan, you're the king of it."

"No, I'm not!"

Cal chuckles. "You so are. King of awkwardness, king of making a fuss out of nothing, king of… chopping too many potatoes," Cal smiles cheekily and, out of force of habit, reverts to teasing mode and says: "King of eating all the doughnuts."

 _What_?

Ethan feels first a sharp pain go through his heart - and then his finger.

Oh. He remembers. A day ago, Mollie had given Ethan a doughnut because she'd 'bought far too much'. Ethan had nibbled at the edge of it, living up to his nickname, and then she'd given him another. He 'ate' it in his room, but his bin had gotten more full than his stomach. That day, Cal thought that Ethan had eaten that sugary shit.

And he had. Ethan had eaten a few bites. Absolutely disgusting. Maybe he should've put his fingers down his throat again, that might have worked! But he didn't.

That's it. He's not eating today or tomorrow.

"Ethan!"

His thoughts snap away as he realizes that Cal is shaking his shoulders and swearing.

"For… Look, you've just gone and peeled your finger! That's really deep, Eth. Why weren't you watching what you were doing, you complete _idiot_?"

The pain is overpowering. Ethan realizes how furiously he'd been peeling those potatoes and now his finger was feeling the consequences. He can't do anything right, can he?

But somehow, this pain is wonderfully distracting. Cal gives Ethan some tissue to soak up the blood and says something about a plaster, holding his arm up. The words go over his head. Ethan's always hated pain, but this is a different type. It _feels_ different. He might even say he likes it.

"Are you even listening to me?" Cal demands. Ethan suddenly realizes how long he's been relishing in the pain of his cut finger and shakes his head. "Hey, I was messing around! Ethan, mate, it was a joke."

Ethan swallows and looks at the ground. "I know."

Clearly, Cal hadn't heard what Lily had said earlier about him starving himself. Turns out, nobody had. Thank fuck for that, he supposes.

"Then stop taking it so hard," Cal says and drops Ethan's arm. Ethan's eyes water as Cal's face stiffens. "You used to be able to take a joke. It's fun, actually! Go on. You try. Tell me I eat too much. Tell me I'm fat, go on. You have a go!"

Ethan shakes his head, refusing to look at Cal. "I'm not going to."

"Of course you're not. Because… well, because there's something up and you can't take a joke. I'm just not going to bother," Cal says, holding his hands up. "I'm tired of this."

Mollie comes out from the bedroom a few seconds later, all dolled up. "Cal, are you ready to- What's happened?"

"Nothing. Let's go then, Mollie."

She nods hesitantly, walking over to them. Mollie gives Ethan a searching look, and Cal, but says nothing. After giving Ethan a quick kiss on the forehead, as she tends to, both her and Cal leave.

The door shuts behind them, and not particularly softly. Cal's clearly more stressed by the frequent arguments and drama than he lets on.

Ethan stands in silence. The water in the pan is overflowing but he doesn't care enough to turn the heat down.

For fucks sake. Nothing goes right nowadays, does it?

His phone dings - thrice. Ethan's heart skips a beat, wondering if it's Cal already. No, it can't be, his car hasn't even started yet.

He looks at the message sender - it's Lily.

 **Lily** _: Hello, Ethan. I understand that you probably dislike me right now and you have every right to. But I was wondering - do you mind lending me some books? Connie said I can take the exam. Thanks in advance._

 **Lily** _: Oh, I hope you are okay by the way._

 **Lily** _: Please reply soon, I need to get studying! :D Very excited. I am sure Connie will let you take the exam too!_

Ethan blinks at his phone. He closes out of the messages, and then he goes back in to read it again. And again. He re-reads them so many times he loses count.

And then he bursts into tears.

In all his life, he has never felt so used, so _hurt_ , and such a pushover by someone he considered a friend. And after an argument with his brother, who he loves so fucking much?

In his fury of tears, it makes him hate both her, Cal _and_ himself.


	11. 10: Repeated Past

**InfinityAndOne** : _It makes me happy when you're happy! Definitely an emotional update - but that's typical, really! He must feel like everyone is getting somewhere in life and that he is dreadfully lagging behind. I'm so pleased you notice the little details. Lily did lose it toward the end of the mini fight and the words she said probably hurt. And a lot can change in a second, especially in this fan-fiction! Ethan's enjoyment for pain is certainly worrying. And one day may come when Cal loses interest, possibly, but perhaps Brotherhood may save them. We'll see. But after all, Mollie seems beautifully uncomplicated as opposed to Ethan who has always got so much going on. What happened with Ethan and Lily made me angry to write, with having personal experience with it myself I really feel for him! And never be sorry for rambling, it made my day to see this review! I hope you continue to enjoy this, there's plenty to come._

 **Tracys** **dream** : _Thank you, I'm flattered you think so! We can hope, but Cal's strong suit isn't reading people's feelings - which isn't great for poor Ethan. Thank you for your review!_

 **A/N:** _There will be more based_ _solely_ _around Ethan's eating struggles and all that soon._

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 **Sometime 2001**

 _I hate today. That seems an odd thing to say when life is usually good - perfect, even. But then Dad had to leave, just yesterday, and ruin everything. I can't stand it. I especially can't stand him._

 _Today is a bad day, possibly worse than yesterday. He made both bad. I can sense it getting even worse, right in my bones._

 _Ethan, my younger brother, jerks me out of my mind by coughing. I look at him and he is mirroring my expression. He looks just as I feel - despairing. Perhaps he senses it too. The calm before the storm._

 _I can still see the redness in Mum's eyes. It's always there but it shouldn't be. It never used to be. And the purple shadows under my younger brother's eyes and the creases of worry across his forehead shouldn't be there either. He's fourteen, for goodness sake. And when I was looking in the mirror this morning, my complexion was pale and I was breaking out in spots. It's the stress, apparently. I guess Dad leaving made my skin flare up as well as our life as we know it crumble. Low life bastard._

 _In other news, our Aunt from Yorkshire, Lily Hardy, has been round all day. I invited her. I hoped that her company would brighten Mum up a little and stop her from watching morning telly with that blank face of hers and heavy sighs._

 _Aunt Lily has tried, but she has to leave eventually. I'll really miss her. She can do a wicked meerkat expression and even myself of sixteen years can appreciate it. But it's over now. She needs to go home._

 _We're all standing in the kitchen, minus Mum who is sitting, when Aunt Lily readies herself to leave. She picks up her handbag from the sunflower printed tablecloth and picks a tea towel up from the tiled floor. It's no use trying to clean the place, it's a state. Nobody has had the motivation to do it. Not even neat freak Ethan._

 _Aunt Lily coughs to draw attention to herself but Mum doesn't take any notice. "Right, I'd better be off."_

 _Again, no response. It's as though Mum hasn't heard and this is hardly a rare occurrence. Aunt Lily turns to my brother and I._

" _I'll see you another time, Caleb," she says and leans in to press a kiss on my cheek. She gives me a look of sympathy, purses her lips and mutters 'take care of Mum'. I nod._

 _Aunt Lily gives Ethan the same treatment, just leaving out the last muttering part and instead passing him five pound for us to share at the sweet shop. He smiles gratefully. I realize that's the first time I've seen him express genuine joy for these last two days, following Dad's walking out. Bless him._

 _In actual fact, Ethan misses Dad more than I do. They actually enjoyed eachothers company. I couldn't and still can't stand the bloke. He infuriates me. I put it down to teenage angst before it happened, but I always had a bad feeling that his lothario side, obsessed with his job and weight, would be his downfall. Spoiler alert: It was._

 _Now he's gone. All I can say is 'good fucking riddance' to him. He's no Dad to me anymore._

 _I sigh heavily again and stare at Mum, as Ethan and Aunt Lily do. Mum just gazes into the distance, as usual, but holds out the house keys._

" _Take care, Matilda," my Aunt Lily says, taking the keys and advancing to let herself out of the house. Mum hasn't bothered to move from her usual perch._

" _Bye," Mum says blankly._

 _Aunt Lily smiles weakly. She tuts - in good humor - at the junk food wrappers on the table, from myself and Ethan. But she must think they're belonging to Mum. She heads to the hallway after one last sad smile to my little brother and I._

 _I know that she's trying to brighten the situation when she calls jokingly: "No more comfort eating, Tilly!" And then exits the house._

 _I can visibly see Mum flinch. I wait. Ethan holds his breath. We know her thoughts as well as we know her own. And they're dark - very dark._

 _Her eyes then dart this way and that, looking down at her arms, then her stomach, then her legs, then her calves. Aunt Lily had only said that to make Mum laugh. But I know how Mum gets with her weight._

 _Ethan and I exchange looks. Oh no. I speak up. "Mum, she was kidding."_

 _She shakes her head. "She wasn't."_

" _Mum, she-"_

" _-I'm heading out."_

" _Where?" I ask immediately._

" _For a run."_

 _I feel panic seize me. "But you haven't eaten anything since - well, since…"_

 _She shoots a look at me. "You heard what your Auntie Lily meant. Mum is fat. Mum needs to lose weight and stop sitting here, gaining it."_

" _Mum, it was a j-"_

" _Just..." Mum holds her hands to her head as if she's trying to hold it together and rises from her seat. "Stop. I'm going out, Caleb, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."_

 _Sure enough, in less than five minutes, she is kitted out and running down the street. We don't hear anything from her for a good two hours until the phone rings. I pick it up and it's the hospital. My stomach immediately sinks. I suppose I was right about this being a bad day._

 **11th of February 2017**

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Cal awakes with a start. He takes great and heaving breaths, placing his hand on his hammering chest. Is that reality? No. Not anymore. It was just a dream. He's _not_ that sixteen year old boy anymore with his lost little brother and his unwell Mum. He's not. Cal's a grown up now.

But that dream really struck a nerve.

Cal reaches for his cup of water on his dresser. His heart is still pounding. Despite it being around 16 years ago, he remembers that day. Mum had passed out in the street and somebody had called an ambulance. The memory of picking up the phone and them telling him about Mum had stuck in Cal's mind. Ethan had shaken Cal until he'd said what was going on, and then he had cried - absolutely engulfed with tears - in the car as Cal drove them to the hospital.

Cal doesn't remember a lot of what happened when they visited her there, but both brothers had been in bits and neither slept that night. Sure, it had been lucky because she'd found out about her cancer that day (meaning she got treatment relatively early - what use _that_ did as the great beast still killed her eventually) but she had been forced to have a tube down her nose.

But it was all due to one little comment that tipped Mum over the edge, well and truly.

Oh, fuck.

He remembers vividly what Aunt Lily had said. That joking mention towards Mums weight - which was approaching dangerous waters at the time, borderline morbidly underweight - had stuck in his mind.

The same sort of comments _he_ says thoughtlessly, now, on a daily basis.

' _Only one muffin though, Eth, we don't want you getting chubby!'_

' _Can't go two minutes without eating, can you?'_

' _I know how you feel about cheese - your one true love, eh?'_

' _King of eating all the doughnuts.'_

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Cal fumbles with the bedcovers and gets out of bed. He said them _all_ to Ethan, didn't he? Why was he acting like being chubby would be a bad thing, anyway? So stupid.

It's brotherly teasing which has won the battle between stepping on eggshells about negative comments. Brothers do that. Sisters do that. Millions of siblings do that!

But the reality is that millions of siblings haven't had Cal's upbringing and the realisation that the smallest words can fracture the hard work of trying to feel _alright_ about yourself.

No, no. Ethan can't turn out like Mum - he just can't. Mum had to take pills just to get out of bed in the morning and to brush her teeth. She never ate and she always fainted. Nose bleeds always happened - probably more frequently than trips to the park. Their childhood was still amazing, but it could've been better. It _could've_ been even better.

"Cal?" Mollie's voice is husky with sleep. Cal looks at her in alarm, perched on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong?"

"I need to check on Ethan."

"It's half past seven, he'll be at work. We're off today... but... we'll see him when he's home."

Cal looks at Mollie, who is tucked up in the bedsheets tightly with her hair loose. She sounds sleepy. "I need to see him right _now_."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want him to stop eating and then get ill - or die. Not ill like Mum. Not happening."

Mollie looks taken aback. "Wow, okay. Well, I doubt that'll happen." She rubs her eyes in exhaustion and Cal feels bad for keeping her up, but she looks at him with genuine interest and the guilt fades.

"I think it might."

"No, no. It won't, love. I know that he doesn't eat a lot and he's a little bit weird around food," Mollie says. "But I don't think he'll _die_ , sweetheart."

Cal ignores the latter statement and focuses on the former, his heart pumping hard. "Right, I _definitely_ need to see him."

"Cal, you're over-reacting! He's fine!" Mollie says and squints. "You haven't even got any underwear on, anyway. I doubt Ethan or anyone else would appreciate it if you showed up at the ED with no clothes."

Not even embarrassed or phased by his own nudity, he doesn't care. But out of habit, Cal covers his dignity with a pillow nevertheless. "I'll text, then."

"Yep." Mollie nods sleepily, turning over and yawning. "Wake me if you need me, okay?" In only a few moments, she falls back into slumber.

Cal is busy watching her snore gently and mutter in her sleep, but remembers. Back to the matter at hand.

He picks up his phone, blinded temporarily by the unnecessary brightness, and then finds Ethan in his contacts. Sighing, he composes a message in his state of sleep which seemed to make his thoughts inhorent, sighs about a couple thousand times, drops his phone on the floor and then goes back to sleep. But he dreams about Ethan with a tube down his nose and wakes up again in tears.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Apparently, everyone knows about the little argument between both Ethan and Lily. _Everyone_. Somehow it even leaked to the wards upstairs. Hospital gossip is running desperately low, Ethan supposes. Good news for the frequent gossipers, bad news for himself and Lily. The stress is overwhelming, knowing that everyone is watching and thinking bad of him. He hates it.

He retreats to the staff room at first opportunity. And it's in the midst of trying to control his first nose bleed in ten years - which he knows has mainly happened because of the stress of not dropping enough weight this morning - when his phone dings.

Immediately, he frets. It better not be Lily. Despite giving up trying to wrangle some textbooks from him, she does genuinely look as apologetic as he feels. But it's over now, so why bother?

Never mind. He doesn't need friends.

Ethan blocks Lily out of his mind and then squints down at his phone. It's from Cal. He puts his passcode in and finds the text.

 **One unread message - Cal**

 **Cal:** _hey nibbles so i hhad a really bad drem. It was about when aunt lily came round, remember? I do bc it was a sad day plus i dremt about it. Mum fainted remember and went 2 hospital. so i have somehing to tell u which is that im sorry for being a jerk! Soz 4 making comments abt your weight and stuff cause i didn't mean it. Pls be healthy. u look decent and im sorry for being a dick all the while. Nite im going to sleep. Missing u._

It's all Ethan can do to not send a message in response to the awful grammar and spelling errors. But the message seems to warm him.

The relief of the miniature disagreement between Cal and Ethan seems to be forgotten and this delirious little message looks to be proof of that. Thank goodness. Ethan smiles. He supposes he'd better answer and sort his nose out later.

 **Ethan** : _Hey. You okay? Oh, sorry about your bad dream - I know that wasn't a fun day. And don't even worry about it, your comments honestly don't bother me! I get that you're kidding around. And I suppose I may be missing you too - vaguely - but I'll see you when I come home._

Ethan sighs. Cal's not the reason Ethan _really_ loathes his body - nobody is. Cal's comments are far more tamer than the words he labels himself with inside his own dark mind. But he appreciates the apology; even though it's unnecessary and kind of out of character. Cal really is full of surprises. Weirdo.

After taking some time to breathe, Ethan sorts his nose and gets back to work. And it's all with the knowledge that he has a lovely brother at home to see later which seems to cheer him up. Well, for a few minutes.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cal sits at the head of the bed and leans against it. Another bad dream. He hates this worry. In fact, he can't stand it. That's why he's sitting, from the fear of knowing he might keel over.

But it's morning now. He needs to get dressed and perhaps achieve something today. It's difficult when you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. It appeared overnight and he wonders when it'll shift.

Mollie enters the room. "I'll have a shower, and then we can go shopping if you'd like?" she suggests, sliding her nightdress on to keep her clothed during her descent to the bathroom. "Back in a bit."

Cal nods listlessly. Again and again, he re-reads the message Ethan sent in response. He sighs.

 _I guess my brother inherited the lying trait from me then,_ Cal thinks.

Then the hopeful, little and irritating voice in the back of his mind disagrees. _Ethan may be telling the truth, he rarely lies. You're a good brother. He's okay because your take care of him. Besides, your words or anything else make no difference. He's not that sensitive! Besides, he doesn't care about his weight. This is pointless._

Cal shakes his head but his internal dilemma doesn't shake off with it. No. No, the second voice is right. Ethan's fine. He'd tell Cal if he wasn't.

Ethan won't sink deep like their parents did. Besides, he's not even on a diet! Perhaps the mention of food makes him act a little odd, but this is Ethan we're talking about. He's _always_ odd.

No, he won't end up like Mum or Dad. He's not even close to that. Ethan eats, he's happy and he's healthy - which is all Cal has ever wanted.


	12. 11: Becoming Impassible

**Bonnie Sveen Fan** : You're definitely right, Matilda's influence has definitely had some sort of impact on them both to a degree. I'm happy you like the bad grammar, I thought it was very Cal! Lily could be a great help to Ethan - if they were speaking. Thank you for for your review!

 **InfinityAndOne** : Cal seriously does need a good shake! But he's not to know, really, and denial is an awful thing. It's like he desperately doesn't WANT Ethan to feel that way, so he's kind of lying to himself. We'll have to see if Cal learns! And Matilda's life did take a dark turn. Ethan definitely needs people to stop him from taking that path of sometimes no return. I hope you enjoy this chapter, I wanna update more frequently so I hope you'll be happy to hear that! Thank you for your review!

 **Casslourrocks** : Your reviews are always so nice to read! Reading your lovely words definitely made me smile. And let's hope Cal does! But this is a long story, there's more hell to come sadly... wave goodbye to your sanity, I know I have! Here's the next chapter. Thank you for your review!

 **CBloom2** : Glad you did! With any luck, Cal will. But luck isn't something that happens very often in this AU. And you're definitely right about anything happening, that's the great thing about fanfiction! Thank you for your review!

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 **(The same day) 11th of February 2017**

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Time passes and his shift is over. It has dragged massively. Perhaps, one day, the times of enjoying work will return and the feeling of joy will happen again. But he doesn't know when.

Everyone who worked the shift he did is now heading out of the emergency department. They're laughing, larking about and are seemingly cheerful about something. Ethan can't work out what.

Since working out how little weight he's lost - around _only_ ten pounds in the same time he wanted to lose over twenty - he's forgotten how to smile and seeing others do so with ease utterly baffles him. It's a feeling that he can't properly describe, when the scales read something else. Perhaps it's just accomplishment, that's all he can use to label it.

Evidently, it's the only joy he gets all week.

"Ethan, wait up!"

He halts at the sound. It's only when he realises that it's Lily that he wishes he hadn't. Miserably, he waits by the exit of the emergency department.

"Thanks," Lily says. "I didn't want to run after you."

Ethan nods wordlessly. He begins walking again and she falls into step. A short silence falls upon them and regret from both sides is creeping.

Lily's swallowing is audible. "So, I text you last night and I've been trying to speak with you all day," Lily says. "But forget the textbooks, I borrowed some from Iain which his friend used. Iain is so helpful."

"Glad to hear."

"Right. So. I've just been thinking about recent events."

 _I had a horrible feeling you were going to say that._ "Oh."

"Yes. I think it's best if I just come out with it, to be honest. Alright. Perhaps we can… be friends again?"

Ethan doesn't really know what to say. He hadn't entirely been expecting her to _ask_. Surely, he's not worth the trouble. But there's no way he could straight up refuse her. "Yes. Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes," Ethan says. Honestly, he's missed her - but he's too tired to act like it. Seconds pass but Lily's words from their last argument has stuck in his mind like superglue. He needs to convince her. "But please - can you not mention what you did say yesterday?"

"What? Oh, the… the eating thing?"

Ethan nods. "Yes. Because it's untrue. There's really no need to spread false rumours, after all."

"But… look, you barely eat, and I'm-"

He shoots her a look of reminder. She gets it.

"Fine. If that'll make you happy. But only if you're sure you're okay?"

Ethan has never been less sure of anything in his life. He forces something that could perhaps be a smile. "I'm definitely sure."

"Good. That's really good," Lily says. Somehow, she seems to entirely believe him. "Anyway. Are you going to Charlie's stag-do?"

Oh. _That's_ what everyone was getting all hyper about. It seems to make sense. He knows Cal's excited for it. But as much as Ethan knows this, he also knows that there may be food involved. He can't risk it. Cal can go by himself - it's not like he doesn't know the other people there.

"May give it a miss tonight," Ethan says and walks on to his car wordlessly.

Lily follows but looks disappointed that her efforts at making conversation are being disregarded. "Oh. I'm... not going to Duffy's Hen Night either, actually."

"Right."

"Yes. I need to study for my exams."

Ethan nods. Lily waits for him to say anything - perhaps wish her luck - but he doesn't. It's as though his mind is filled with static and his eyes are heavy with exhaustion. Honestly, he hasn't got the energy to talk. And all she can do is inhale huffily in frustration a.

"Are you even going to _try_ and talk to me? I thought we were friends again."

"I am talking to you, Lily. I'm just really tired."

"I mean in a _friendly_ way. And that's what you always say. Really, I feel like I'm the only one putting an effort in!"

Ethan tries to hold back his bitter remark. He tries so hard. But his mind is fogged by starvation and stress - he's different to the person he was when he used to eat. And there's nothing harder than controlling your temper when you hate everything minus a handful of people.

So it slips - and he loathes himself for it as soon as it comes out.

"Well, now you know how I feel, then."

 _If you say things like that, you don't deserve friends._

Lily stops walking. After a few steps, Ethan does too and turns to her. Lily's face looks crimson and it seems as though her hands are begging to slap him.

"I didn't mean it," Ethan says immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. It was an accident. Lily, I'm just really tired and-"

"Tiredness doesn't excuse what you just said to me!"

"I know, I know, I-"

"Look, I _would've_ asked you to do more, Ethan. But I always asked to have lunch with you - I _did_. I tried hard with you but friendships do turn to mush and they do get ruined. That's what happened here, isn't it?" Lily draws in a breath and releases it. "I really shouldn't have tried, clearly this entire search for the Ethan I _used_ to know is fruitless."

He feels is his stomach dropping at the events unfolding. "We've… we've got an audience."

LIly turns subsequently to see a large huddle of the department staring. Immediately, from across the car park, they duck their heads and stop. But they've been caught. Lily sighs.

"I'm _so_ sick of being the butt of office gossip. It's doing my reputation no good."

"Hey, reputations don't matter, Lily."

"They do when you actually want to achieve something in life!" Lily spits. "I think I'm the only one in this conversation who does."

"But who says _I_ don't?"

"Your blatant disregard to further your career."

Ethan stares at her. "What has that got to do with you, Lils?"

The old term of endearment had come out by mistake. Lily is momentarily softened by it until her face goes as hard as concrete again.

He knows she'd bought his non-moving career up. Her insecurity of her own career has made her try to tear chunks into his - that's just what old, _old_ Lily used to do back when they'd only been acquainted for a precious couple of months. She delivered snide comments and looks of disrespect to anyone lower.

Maybe that lady is back.

Ethan knows that she'll become a consultant before him and earn far more money than he can dream of. But he doesn't care. He'd rather lose pounds than work to gain pounds in money.

"Nothing. I just thought I'd bring it up."

"Well, please don't. I already know I'm getting nowhere."

"Then do something to change, I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap like you did. But I could help-"

"I appreciate it, Lily, I really do, but you're wasting your breath," Ethan says. "This is getting old, now. Really old. I need to go, perhaps you should too," He tries and fails to hold back a horribly, selfish and unnecessary comment. "I don't want to chip into your special study time, anyway."

 _Stop it! Why are you so angry? Why do you hurt people so much?_

"Lily…" Ethan has never felt so guilty in his life. "I... Oh, I'm so sorry..."

Lily just freezes. For an awful moment, it looks like she's going to slap him. But her hand stops and her body steps back.

"You are absolutely unbelievable," Lily says. "What's _happened_ to you?"

 _Stop it! Why are you so angry? Why do you hurt people so much?_

Ethan shakes his head quickly and holds his hands up. "Nothing! I don't know why I said it, Lily, I honestly-"

"It's no shock you're so bitter. Ethan, you're starving!" Lily sounds desparing. "You're changing because you're so hungry!"

"Stop it," Ethan's guilt suddenly slips away. His voice sounds as defensive as he feels.

 _Don't let her tell anyone. Do whatever it takes._

"Do that and I'll tell Connie that you're bullying me," Ethan hisses. Lily takes a step back, stunned. "Just like you did with Alicia, back in time. She'll believe me. She will."

Lily takes a couple more steps back. She looks terrified.

Terrified of _him_.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone your precious secret," Lily says in a trembling voice. "What is wrong with you, Ethan? God, what is _wrong_ with you?"

After that, she turns on her heel and leaves him alone. Eyes of the department stare at them both.

Ethan swells with guilt immediately - again. Such an idiot. "Lily, I'm-"

Lily turns and gives him a look, mid-walk. "No, you're not!" Lily shouts to him, finding her anger. With finality, she says in a loud voice: "Blackmail is low, Ethan. From now on, you are on your _own_. Good luck finding anyone else to put up with you like I did."

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 **1 hour later**

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Cal jumps at the front door slamming after his younger brother walks in through it. Ethan looks at Cal, sighing deeply, before sitting on the sofa. Looking as exhausted as Cal feels, Ethan takes his glasses off and rubs at his eyes.

"Hey, don't sit. We've got to get to Charlie's Stag."

Ethan's face freezes and he stares up at Cal. "Oh. Right."

"Don't tell me you forgot? Ethan, you _never_ forget!"

"No, I didn't," Ethan says, sounding honest. "Is... is it okay if I give it a miss, if you don't mind?"

Cal sighs. He'd had a feeling that Ethan was going to say this from the moment he walked through the door. Call it brother's intuition. But it's still frustrating. "Don't ask me. Ask Charlie."

"He won't care if I'm not there. Not in the slightest. Everyone will be too drunk to notice I'm gone. Besides, I'll come to the wedding with you - obviously."

Cal relents after very little persuasion. "Yeah, yeah, fine, I'll tell him."

"Thank you," Ethan says. They sit in silence for a minute whilst Cal pretends to be busy, standing in the middle of the room. Ethan clearly notices something's up. He's good like that. "You okay?"

"Yes. Fine, " Ethan clearly doesn't believe him. Cal gives up and lets it spill. "Alright, I just had a nightmare earlier."

"Yeah, I got your message and replied. It's horrible remembering that, isn't it? Poor Mum," Ethan says. He winces at the memory. "You could've called me if you were upset, you know that."

"I wasn't," Cal insists stubbornly.

Ethan looks at him unbelievingly. "Right."

"I was just worried about you, more than anything," Cal says in a matter of fact way.

"Uh, why?" Ethan says, laughing nervously. "I'm fine. It's you who had a nightmare."

He looks Ethan's distinctly leaner frame up and down and takes note of his almost pinched face. He chooses his words carefully. "Yeah, well. It looks like you haven't been eating right. You look thinner, you know. Have you, uh, lost weight?"

For a second, Ethan looks something close to terrified or alarmed. But then he just laughs. "Oh, no. I _wish_."

It seems like the room has spun. Cal grips the sofa edge and he sits onto it.

 _I wish._

"What… what did you just say?"

Ethan realises how troubled Cal's face has gotten and his own face looks twisted with regret. "Uh, nothing. I was kidding, _obviously_ , Caleb. I didn't mean that."

Cal breathes shakily. "Sure?"

"100% sure, Cal," Ethan says. "And even if I wasn't, it's genuinely _nothing_ to panic about! Everyone wishes they were thinner."

"Not everyone, Ethan."

"No, but the majority of people tend to," Ethan says. He backtracks when Cal looks even more terrified. "I… I can't think why."

"Thinner isn't necessarily better, Ethan. Just like if you were fat, that wouldn't be-"

"Cal, please, just don't," Ethan says with a sigh. Concern is plastered on his face now. "Hey, you look pale. _I'm_ worried now! Can you please, _please_ stop stressing about this? It'll make you ill."

"Well, it _does_ stress me out when you say shit like that! Especially after Mum and Dad got obsessed. Promise me you were kidding? About… about the wishing thing?"

"I promise, Cal, for the love of God! You make it seem like once you go on a diet or wish you were thinner, you're immediately damned to a life of starvation. That's not the case, Caleb. You're a doctor, you should know that."

Cal just stares back at Ethan. "You remember my text, don't you? Just listen. You know I couldn't bear it."

Ethan looks surprised at Cal's attitude. "You're really over-reacting about this, Cal. I… I won't. You know I won't. I don't know why that scares you so much! Why _does_ it scare you so much?"

Cal leaves his question unanswered. "It doesn't. Anyway, I'd better go."

"Okay," Ethan sits uncomfortably. "Have fun."

Cal nods. "Left your tea in the kitchen. Make sure you have it."

"Of course. Thanks," Ethan says. He waits until Cal is nearly out of the flat and quickly calls back: "When you get back, maybe we can talk? About why you're so stressed about Mum all of a sudden? It might help you."

Cal can't quite face Ethan. "Yeah, maybe." _Yeah, definitely not._

Ethan doesn't reply. Perhaps he can sense the 'not a chance' tone in Cal's voice - he's grown up hearing it, after all. He calls a 'bye' to the older and that's that.

Cal shouts a quick goodbye to Mollie (who is getting ready for Duffy's Hen Do) and leaves the flat. He feels a little less stressed as he walks down the silent hallways and heads to the exit. A little. Perhaps the weight of the world will disappear when he's drunk.

But all the while, Cal knows the answer to Ethan's question that was left unanswered. It rings around his mind. He tries to shake it away but it won't, not even when he gets into his car and turns the radio up.

 _It scares me because I don't want to lose you like I lost our parents, Ethan. Not ever._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Cal is acting so weird.

That's not even a substantial word for it that does Cal's behaviour justice. It's like how Cal has never acted before. Of course, he's gotten worried and over-protective before - but this is absolutely ridiculous.

Ethan gets up from the sofa but the world spins. Immediately, he panics and falls back onto the sofa.

Shit. Maybe tea is a good idea. He's contemplating it until a screeched voice inside his head starts to scream the truth - and _only_ the truth - at him.

 _Woah, no! No food! If you eat, you'll hate yourself even more. And after what you said with Lily and how you've worried Cal, do you even deserve food?_

Ethan's mind goes back to his own spiteful words to Lily earlier.

" _Well, now you know how I feel, then."_

The little voices in his head are saner than he is. Obviously, he doesn't deserve to eat. He'd be an idiot to think he could.

When his head has stopped spinning, he finally gets up from the sofa. Just in time. Mollie waltzes in with a pair of skinny jeans on, a ridiculously tight black top and a giant fluffy pink skirt on top. Her hair is teased and her eyelids are coated in pink shimmer. Ethan wonders what on earth she's been drinking until he remembers she's off to the Hen Do.

Fighting his mild uncomfortableness of being alone with his brother's girlfriend, Ethan clears his throat. "Are you now off?"

"Yes - a bit too late. But the party doesn't start until I arrive," God, she's so like Cal. "Back soon!"

Ethan passes her purse to her. "Okay. Bye."

Mollie grins before turning to leave the room. But she stops. Then, she turns back round to him. "Actually, can I ask you something?"

"Okay. But I thought you were late?"

"I am! This is a quick one, though. Have you spoken to Cal recently?"

"Yeah, just before he left. He's, uh, been acting a little odd," what an understatement.

Mollie rests her palms onto the kitchen counter and nods thoughtfully. "More than a little. He woke up early in a panic and wanted to run down to see you. Said something about not wanting you to… stop eating and die."

"Wow," Ethan wonders if Cal's noticed he's stopped eating. It'd make sense. "He just doesn't want either of us to turn out like our parents."

"That's understandable. But we're all our own people. Neither of you are carbon copies of your parents."

"Cal doesn't get that. It's all he's ever worried about since we were kids."

Mollie sighs. "Oh, bless him. I'll keep an eye, don't you worry."

"Thank you."

"Hey, I'm his girlfriend. It's my job to fuss over him," Mollie smiles. "Anyway, I've really gotta go! Behave yourself and have your tea, we'll be home later."

Ethan nods and mutters a 'bye' as she clatters out of the flat with her giant heels on. She shuts the door and hurries off.

 _Those two have got to stop obsessing over me having tea,_ Ethan thinks in annoyance. Out of pure curiosity, he looks in the microwave to see what he's kind of being guilt-tripped to have and almost gags.

Pizza. Not a chance.

Only a little guilty, Ethan dumps the meal in the bin and covers the evidence with paper towels. Technically, tea had been eaten - by the bin.

And it's not like he _has_ to eat, anyway.

When he's satisfied that both Cal and Mollie have officially left the building, he sits alone on the sofa and gets his notebook out. The calorie count at the end of the day is gradually getting lesser and lesser.

 _11.2.2017_

 _Breakfast: 0_

 _Drink/s: 320_

 _Lunch: 80_

 _Dinner: 0_

 _Calorie total: 400_

 _It's only a matter of time before my body packs in. I'm not afraid of that - I'm afraid that everyone will find out and stop me. But they can't. I'm unstoppable and I will never give up my hunger. I will succeed at this because I fail at everything else. They can force me to do anything but only I control what I eat - and that's the way it stays._

Ethan puts his notebook away where nobody will ever find it. Then he tries to sleep, alone, with only ghosts of today's conversations floating relentlessly around his mind. But he's impassible - and too numb to hurt anymore.


	13. 12: Here Comes His Bride

**Tanith Panic:** _Thank you for both your reviews on two chapters! They're so well worded. Sorry I made you choke up! Aw, and Ethan really has dug a hole for himself, you're right - he does have the opportunity to make things better with Lily, but he just doesn't. Thank you again for your reviews, hope you enjoy the following chapters!_

 **Casslourocks:** _I'm happy you like the present-tense voice! I find it easier to write in. It's good that it has that effect, it was intentional! Time does drag when you're miserable, as poor Ethan is finding out. And we'll have to see what happens with Cal! Thank you for your review!_

 **CBloom2:** _It is sad. He does need help, but as you said, he just can't see it yet. Thank you for your review!_

 **Guest:** _This chapter was a tricky one to write for me, but I updated as soon as I could! I promise promise promise, the next one will come soon. Thank you for your review!_

 **SiriuslyPctter:** _Wow. Just... wow. Thank you so, so much! 'Clog' up the comment section all you like, that review made my day! You've really understood every single part of the story to a T. I really want to reply to every point, but it'll take all day! Thank you for showing such enthusiasm in this story. You make extremely good points of details I didn't even realize I put in, really! You're very clever. And don't thank me, I love writing this! Thank you so very much for taking the time out of your day to write such a detailed review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Definitely! His mind is honestly telling him all the wrong things. But he thinks it'll make him happy - which is ultimately what he desires, plus losing weight is a bonus. You make a good point about Mollie. And his calorie count is exactly that.. Glad everyone is in character, I'm really conscious to make sure they stay like that! And I doooo want to update more frequently - but this chapter was an exception, was so difficult to write for some reason. Anyway, thank you for your review!_

 **A/N:** _Just by the way, the dates for Charlie's wedding are wrong but oh well, I suppose it doesn't really matter._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **12th February 2017**

It needs to be done.

If it'll fix the huge weight on Cal's mind, or lighten it entirely, then he'll do anything. But not eat, though - that's ludicrous. He'll lie about it if that'll work. Which it will. Because he's fluent in English, French and the art of lying.

He walks into the living room to activate his plan, where both Cal and Mollie are all cuddled up on the sofa. It's clean from one of Ethan's intense cleaning sessions earlier, the coffee table in front of the sofa having only two mugs on it, plus the new biscuit barrel that Mollie brought. They hardly notice him in there, entranced by the television, until he speaks.

"Can I talk to you both?"

Mollie looks at him. She's not going to work today, but she's still got a full face of makeup on. Her glossy peach mouth smiles at him. "Course, honey."

"What have you done now?" Cal asks. He sits himself up straight, but his arm still stays resting around Mollie's shoulders lovingly. "You wanna watch the film with us?"

Ethan stands in the middle of the room, his hands clasped. "Uh, no thank you."

"Alright," Cal says. He gets the remote, conveniently right next to him, and turns the television down. "Spill then, nibbles."

 _Here's your time. Convince them as though your life depends on it. It'll avoid any further suspicion._

"It's nothing important," of _course it's not important, it's about you after all._ "I just wanted to let you both know that I'm okay," Ethan says. He swallows nervously. This is his least favourite topic but it has to be said. "I know you were worried the other day, Cal, with your nightmare and everything. But I just wanted you to know that I'll never be like Mum or Dad," Ethan looks solely at Cal. "I'll always be like you - healthy."

Cal doesn't say anything for a little while. He just stares at the muted television, more focused in biting his lip than anything. When Ethan's almost given up on him speaking, he finally does.

"You promise?" Cal says. He seems suddenly ten years younger, desperate for reassurance. "I appreciate you bring it up, I really do. You know it worries me. You… sleep all the time. And I never see you eat, plus you seem thinner."

 _You've got to start wearing baggy clothes, you idiot, or everyone will notice._

Ethan does his best to remain calm. It's good that Cal assumes he's sleeping, actually, rather than just lying there every evening instead of joining in normal human activities. But it's irritating that he noticed, all the same. "I've just not been in the mood. I like to give you time with Mollie."

Mollie had been zoning out for the most part of the short conversation, but came back to earth when she heard her name. She looks at him. "Hey, you don't have to do that..."

 _They're buying it. Well done, you're doing well._

"It's fine, it doesn't bother me," Ethan says. He tries to think of other things to say to reassure Cal, to make his suspicions disappear. Anything. So he just cements what he's already said, trying to sound as sincere as possible. "But anyway. I promise, Caleb and Mollie, I'd say if anything was wrong."

Cal slowly nods. "Don't worry. I believe you, Ethan. Thank you."

"It's okay," Ethan says. He wrings his hands. "I'll leave you both alone now."

"You can stay!" Mollie smiles. "It'd be nice to see you. We barely do, you're always shut off in your room all the while."

Ethan shrugs. "I've… got stuff to do," like research the amount of calories in every food item he can think of, but they haven't got to know that.

Cal gives Ethan a grateful smile, which excuses him from the room. Ethan awkwardly heads out, but grabs a biscuit before he goes.

"Have fun, you two," Ethan says, as carefree as he can manage being, biting into the biscuit. He leaves the room and walks straight into his bedroom, seemingly content.

"See?" Mollie nudges Cal gently. "He's alright. You can quit worrying now, eh?"

Cal gives her a nod and a smile, resting his head by hers. "I can. God, that's a relief."

Mollie snuggles in closer to Cal, making him smile even more. They turn the television up. Before too long, they're engrossed in the film. Mollie's hand rests in Cal's as they both sit contentedly, not a worry in their mind.

Ethan sits alone in his room. Worries are the only thing on his mind. But one of them disappears as soon as he spits that bloody biscuit out.

 _You did good, Ethan. You did very good._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **14th of February 2017**

It's funny - or depressing, depending on your perspective - how the days have started to stretch to oblivion. It's as though the speed has been slowed down tremendously. Like an hourglass has wet concrete which needs to slide through instead of sand. Days never seem to end. Minutes drag along.

And then you check the calendar and realize that time isn't just a social construct - nope, it exists, and shit happens. Or it's going to; because it's the day before Charlie and Duffy's wedding.

The tension is high. It's obvious. Ethan watches as Cal fidgets restlessly as they stand in the flat's bathroom together. He felt it was a good idea for Cal to try on his suit and everything, because he doesn't want the wedding day to come and for them to be unprepared. Got to organize things properly.

"Hey, stay still," Ethan warns his brother. But Cal doesn't. Instead, he suddenly sneezes and Ethan's hands slip. "Oh, _Caleb_! You ruined your tie again."

Cal huffs, wiping his nose with his hand. Ethan tuts. "It's not my fault, you're taking an age doing it! Do I even need one?"

Half considering letting Cal go without, Ethan tries again. His motivation levels are so low that he doesn't even want to bother. But he mustn't get tempted to give in, or he'll just slink into bed and sleep for an eternity. "It's a wedding."

"So?"

"So, you've got to look your best."

"It's not even _today_! I don't see why we've got to practise dressing up," Cal argues. He pulls on the sleeves of his blazer, muttering that they are too short and that he hates them. When Ethan says nothing, Cal makes it his mission to irritate him. "Ethan. Ethan. Ethan."

" _What_?"

Cal pauses for a good five seconds, probably waiting until he has reached his maximum annoyance level, before blowing hot air onto his face. He smirks as Ethan looks at him, deadpanned. "Knew I could annoy you."

"Why can't you just behave yourself?"

"Because I'm so _bored_!" Cal throws his head back whilst Ethan sorts his sleeves out. He puts the cufflinks on, holding Cal's arms out to make it look right. Then he pats Cal's hair down. Cal turns to the mirror, looking into it - of course, he looked good - but was distracted by Ethan's freezing cold touch. "Ow, stop, you feel really cold!"

"It's the middle of February, so obviously I'm a little cold."

"Yeah, but you're stupidly cold. Plus you're wearing a bunch of layers, and the heating is on!"

Ethan takes a step back and ignores Cal's statement. "All done. You look great."

Cal turns to the mirror in the bathroom, holding his arms out like a penguin and examining it. "Best man material?"

"Definitely."

Cal cheers up. It's been joy all round, recently. Ever since Cal got back from the Stag Night, he'd excitedly awoken Ethan and told him.

 _Night is meant to be peaceful - there's not meant to be the sound of the front door swinging open, running across the floor or heavy breathing. His bedroom door opens with a horrifying bang as it hits the wall. "ETHAN!"_

" _What's going on? Are you okay?" Ethan looks hurriedly at his brother who enters as if there's a fire. He'd entered the room with quite a force. Ethan barely had enough time to wipe the tears away from his cheeks - the product of another fucking nightmare._

 _Cal turns the light on, almost blinding Ethan. "You won't believe it!"_

" _Believe what?"_

" _It's amazing! It's-" Cal puts his entire hand on Ethan's face. "Your face is wet."_

" _I… I drool in my sleep."_

" _Eyes don't drool, silly!"_

" _Just tell me what's so amazing and then go to bed!"_

 _Cal looks absolutely shit-faced but he's ridiculously excited. "I'm… I'm going to be Charlie's best man! It's so great! Oh my God, Ethan, he asked me earlier. Cal you believe it?!"_

 _Ethan looks up at him, squinting. He's miserable right now, yes, but he's happy for Cal. "That's great, Caleb."_

" _It's more than great! It's… okay, now I understand excitement about weddings," Cal sounds so drunk but so elated - it's admittedly a fun mix. "I can't sleep, I'm soooooo happy!"_

 _Ethan drags himself up from bed. "Cal, I know you're excited but you've got to sleep. Come on, you can sleep with me if you want."_

" _That's weird, I can't sleep with my brother!. And I don't HAVE to sleep!"_

" _One, it's not weird - it's perfectly normal, you can keep me company. And two, it's the law - you've got to sleep."_

 _Cal shrugs and crawls into bed by Ethan, shoes still on. "Okay. Don't wanna get arrested."_

" _Nope. Now go to sleep, and you can tell me all about it in the morning."_

" _You bet I will!"_

Cal really hadn't been lying. It's all he's been talking about. Ethan was confused at his excitement before he realized - all Cal really wanted was a father figure, and the role of the best man usually goes to the son (or best friend) of the groom. Ethan _is_ pleased for Cal, really, he is.

He deserves a Dad-type-figure in his life - and perhaps he's getting it. Ethan hopes so. He really, really does. Because at least one of them need to be happy.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **15th of February**

Charlie and Duffy's wedding has arrived, and Ethan's doing the opposite of what everyone else is doing - absolutely nothing. Mainly because he can't see in a straight line properly (because he dropped his glasses because he's so stupidly clumsy, and his spare identical pair aren't as great), secondly because he has nothing in his mind but fog. When he'd tripped over thin air earlier and continuously been in the way, he was made to sit in various rooms. He's currently in the women's locker room - not an ideal place, but at least it's warm.

The only thing that enters his mind is how weird it feels when he can physically feel the liquid of his water as it drips into his empty stomach. It's filling, which is a sensation which Ethan hasn't experienced in a while. That's all he's had for the last day - water. This morning, he'd had half of an apple but it had stuck in his throat so he'd spat it out. Food is becoming disgusting. All he wants is water from his trusty plastic bottle, so that's what he has.

Louise's snappy voice distracts him. "Hold that, Ethan," she hands him a comb, which he looks at absentmindedly. "Now pass me some hair mousse."

Ethan nods, getting up - on weak legs, no less - and hunting through the vast supplies of cans. "Which one is it?"

"The one which goes in hair, obviously," Louise says and rolls her eyes. The women laugh smugly among themselves.

"I meant what brand," Ethan looks at Louise, completely finished with the wedding already. He's not that uneducated with women's hair products, he used to do his mother's all the time when she got sick. "V05 or John Frieda?"

Louise blinks at him. If she's surprised, she doesn't show it. But the silence suggests that she is, very much so. "Oh. First one."

"Here you go, then."

She barely thanks him, coating her own hair in it. After that, nobody really speaks to Ethan. Why would they? He sits miserably and wishes for time to pass faster but it always seems to go slow because days never ended and why can't he get out of this room because it's so horribly awkward and why is it so hot in here and-

"Cheer up, love," Mollie's cheerful sing-song voice distracts his frustrated mind. Ethan just looks at the floor. Her smile leaves her face as though a light had been switched off and she suddenly looks very pitying. "Hey, I've got a job for you."

Ethan looks up at her. "What is it?"

"Can you go to my locker and get my shawl? It's the wool thing which goes over my shoulders," Mollie asks. Ethan is about to get up when she takes the sleeve of his shirt and looks at him a little urgently. Quietly, she says: "Maybe you can get something to eat as well."

Ethan grips his water bottle tighter as if it's the only way he will keep sane. "I'll get your shawl." _And I'll get more water instead, thank you very much._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Cal is over the moon. Honestly, genuinely and completely over the moon. He's all suited up, his role in the wedding is fixed into his mind permanently and his level of excitement is high.

"Ready?" Charlie asks. He tightens Cal's tie, then his own. "You look more excited than me."

"I… I am a little excited."

Charlie smiles at Cal, laughing. "I'm glad I chose you. Obviously, Louis didn't want to come - but you're one of my very first choices."

Cal actually believes he's glowing. "Thank you."

"Hey, stop thanking me. I should be thanking you, I didn't think weddings were your thing. I'm still in a sense of shock, actually," Charlie says. "Ever been a best man before?"

"Nope!"

"Oh, not even at your parents wedding? Or were they married before they had you?"

Cal's face drops only slightly. "I, uh… it wasn't a fancy wedding, it was just at a registry office. Nothing special. Besides, I don't think my Dad would've wanted me to have any special role." _And it's not like it matters, they broke up soon after._

"Well, he's an idiot then," Charlie says. He pats Cal's shoulders, straightening his jacket out and then giving him one of those looks that his Dad never gave. "We'd better go. Come on, I'm getting married!"

Cal forgets about his Dad and thinks about the wedding again - and then he's perfectly happy. "Let's do this thing."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Everyone hurries into the chapel in the hospital. The ceremony was due to be taking place any moment now. People from all walks of life arrive, a lot of who Ethan has never seen before. But they all seem friendly, more or less.

People split up to find their correct seats. With Cal in the other room, Ethan's all alone. Mollie saves the day, though. It must be obvious that he's feeling very lost. She links his arm with hers and they walk into the room. He tries to mimic her confidence but it's just sad.

Charlie and Cal arrive shortly after everyone else does. They walk to the stand at the altar, by the pastor, to await Charlie's fiance's arrival. Charlie himself is dressed up smartly in a black tuxedo, a small flower poking out of his pocket and a tie.

Cal stands right by Charlie. Ethan can't help but grin at the giant amount of happiness on Cal's face, as he chatters to Charlie during their wait for Duffy. He takes his eye off Cal, letting him have that moment with Charlie without his younger brother being nosy and watching.

"Aren't they sweet?" Mollie whispers to Ethan, nuding him gently as they walk.

Ethan nods. "They actually are kind of, yeah. It's like they've known eachother forever."

"Awww," Mollie has a smile on her face. "Bless them. You know, the whole atmosphere in this room is lovely."

It really is. The actual room itself is decorated beautifully, also. A carpet is laid neatly across the floor, leading all the way to the bouquet decorated altar where the pastor stands. Flowers are put in little bunches in corners, wrapped up with glittery transparent ribbons. Dust is seemingly non-existent as every pew was polished to perfection, where every smartly dressed person was in waiting for Duffy.

"They really went all out, huh?" Mollie whispers to Ethan, who agrees. It looks expensive but worth it. "Let's sit down."

Ethan doesn't quite know where to sit. Mollie goes anywhere - she's become solid friends with so many in the department before he'd even realized it. But he feels unwelcome. Especially when he realizes that one of the few pews free is the one where Lily happens to be sat.

He looks at her. She immediately looks away. That's that, then.

Mollie squeezes up as he has no other choice but to sit by her, on the pew in front of Lily's. She smiles at him, all excited, before turning to Robyn and chatting with her. Ethan wants to be as joyful as her, but it's hard. How far did she have to squeeze up for him to sit by her? Too much. He's so disgustingly-

The music starts. Just in time.

"Looking forward to the buffet?"

Ethan turns to see Lily behind him. Duffy hasn't entered yet, but she's about to. So he keeps his response short. "I can hardly contain myself."

She stares straight into his eyes. "Oh, I bet you are. I'm sure your favourite drink will be there - water."

If she's trying to guilt-trip him or scare him or whatever into eating, she's doing a bad job. Fuming, Ethan faces front and ignores her. But the urge is too strong. He snaps his head back to look at her. "Remember what I said about Connie the other day."

 _Wow, you are spiteful…_

"She'd never believe a ludicrous lie like that," Lily says. "Now be quiet, Duffy's arriving."

Ethan bites back his response to say that she actually started the conversation. Everyone's eyes turn to see Duffy. Her white dress stands out among the polished brown of the room, the hem following behind her. It's beautiful, even he can appreciate it in his current mindset.

The room comes to a silence. A love story to end all love stories is about to become official, and not a moment too soon.


	14. 13: Honesty Is (not) a Virtue

**Tanith Panic:** _Descriptive writing can be tricky but it's good to hear you enjoyed it! His life really is spiralling out of his control. So happy you loved it! Thank you for your review, and thank you again for your other lovely review on chapter 12! It made my morning when I saw it._

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Aren't typos fantastic... haha! And I'm not sure where that specific line came from, but I'm really happy you like it. Your point about Mollie is interesting! And I love writing excited Cal, it's refreshing. More of him in this chapter. Thank you for your review!_

 **Guest:** _That's really lovely of you to say, thank you! And I want him to get better too - but he can't really get better if he's not even aware anything's wrong, sadly. Hope you enjoy this update! Thank you for your review._

 **SiriuslyPctter:** _I live for adding little details in, well done for noticing it! Thank you for your review._

 **A/N:** _Dark chapter - this story really does start to go downhill from here._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(The same day) 15th February 2017**

The service ends almost as soon as it begun. It didn't drag - there was just a simple speech and then a declaration of love from the two as the knot was tired. Tears shone in everyone's eyes at the public display of affection. Even Cal had glossy eyes when it was finished.

It was fantastic. There was humor, there were laughs, there was Cal's bit with the rings (which he executed flawlessly), and there were cheers.

And then there was the buffet.

It rushed straight on, no waiting. Cal delivers a witty speech as they all hover by the table, but it's short and sweet. Ethan drifts off for most of it - not because it's boring, but because three hours of interrupted sleep makes it difficult to stay awake during weddings - but, from what he hears, Cal says it as smoothly as they'd practised together. Ethan feels a glow of pride when everyone claps, but makes sure he does it the loudest. His brother actually _blushed._

After, Ethan stands by the wall, soberly sipping from his water bottle as everyone fills their plates and then sits back at the table. He stands out conspicuously. It's better than sitting at the table, where the smell of food is unbearably strong. That sounds like torture.

Others don't seem to agree. They eat contentedly, every single person mindlessly filling their mouths. Ethan just watches in fascination. Don't they hate themselves for eating so much?

"Here," Cal breaks Ethan's bubble of thought. He passes a piece of wedding cake on a flimsy paper plate to him. "It was almost all gone."

Ethan only just resists the urge to drop it. "Oh. Wow, thank you. You didn't have to."

"Meh," Cal shrugs with a smile. But he seems on edge. "You might want to have some of the buffet food, too, everyone's going at a million miles an hour to scoff the lot."

"I will," Ethan says. A bare-faced lie, but he hopes and prays that Cal won't notice that. "Just...in a minute."

"Actually, I'm going to get some so I'll grab you a plate too," Cal says. He darts off yet again, not even giving him a second to speak or refuse. That was rather random. Ethan hasn't even spoken to him for a good ten minutes and Cal just spontaneously handed him a giant slice of cake. Strange.

But then it takes only a few seconds to realise.

Cal is still a little on to him, isn't he?

 _Shit. You've got to convince him!_

And he will. Ethan promises himself that, by the time this day is through, nobody will ever be worried again. No matter what it takes.

So he hatches a secret plan and keeps silent.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan follows Cal around the room as everyone else begins attacking the buffet. Ethan looks around, feeling as frightened as he looks. It's like feeding time at the fucking _zoo_. Nobody even asks about the calories, they just eat it! If they had the chance not to chew, they wouldn't. They'd just gulp it down.

"Sit next to me, quit pacing," Cal says, patting a chair. Ethan does. "So. How was I earlier?"

Ethan looks down at the cake and wants to cry into it. But Cal asked him a question, so the crying would have to wait. "You were brilliant. Really… brilliant. And you didn't drop the ring, so that's a bonus."

"And the speech?"

"Just how we practised. You were great."

Cal grins, and it's obvious that he enjoys the praise. "Aw. Well, as fun as it was, I'm pleased I can finally relax now. There's a lot of messing about before the good stuff."

"And by the good stuff you mean…?"

"When they're finally and officially wed, duh," Cal says. He takes a bite of his food, before looking across the table to the groom. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen Charlie so happy."

Ethan nods. "I know. It's nice, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

Both sigh. Cal smiles at Charlie from across the table and it's returned. Ethan can see Cal's amazement. He never used to get smiles from their Dad. Of course, Charlie's not their Dad - but he's as good as. And Ethan knows that all Cal's ever dreamed of is for a complete and happy family, really. Deep down, anyway. The heartless womanizer he paints himself as is an inaccurate picture, but only Ethan truly knows that. He's obviously overjoyed today. Ethan suddenly feels very fond of Cal, rather than peeved or despairing. It's a fantastic feeling.

Cal elbows Ethan. "Make sure you eat up, yeah?"

Oh. That feeling didn't last very long.

Fully aware that Cal is watching his every move, Ethan nods. It's time for the plan. "Of course."

In the corner of his eye, it's obvious that Lily is watching him from across the table. Ethan swallows. He looks down at his food, but it's not any nicer to look at. It still looks just as scary as Lily does.

 _Don't you let them get suspicious!_

He won't let them. His plan goes like this; he'll force down every inch of food he can possibly have without throwing up. It'll be close to impossible, but it needs to be done. And after he's eaten all that food, he'll feel sick without a doubt - he even feels sick from eating the littlest thing sometimes.

And then he'll throw it up again. Simple.

So he starts. Hesitantly, he takes a bite of his food. Nausea churns in his stomach.

 _Come on. Eat it. It won't be inside of you forever, we'll get it out together._

Cal releases a big breath, finally taking his eyes off of Ethan. It seems like he's finally appeased - entirely worry free. Ethan hears Cal in a conversation with Mollie, which then goes to Charlie, and suddenly everyone is talking happily.

Cal stops watching Ethan. He isn't suspicious anymore. Lily is - she's watching him like a hawk - but he can deal with her later, if she becomes more difficult. The worried part of Cal has disappeared.

 _Perfect._

Ethan turns away from everyone to stare at both his plates which seem to be leering at him. It takes an extreme amount of effort to eat even just another bite of cake, and even then, it tastes like sugar-coated cardboard which is difficult to swallow. He stabs the remainder of it with a fork and gives up, barely half-way through. Next.

The other plate is genuinely overwhelming. Food has never been so terrifying, especially with the added knowledge that he couldn't back out of eating - because he isn't alone. He can't throw it away, he can't walk away, he has to eat it.

There is no escape. The control is taken from his hands.

He ends up forcing - each mouthful takes at least 10 seconds to consume - half the plateful down. Each time he manages to eat some, thoughts in the back of his mind are reminding him of his worthlessness. The chips taste like failure and eating the mini sausages gives him the same expression as a child who is stuck inside on a rainy day. Every swallow feels like he's lost a war.

And then the food is almost gone.

Hours have passed - well, minutes, but that's what it feels like. _'Hours'_ of chewing and desperately ignoring the churning of his stomach and the sickness intensifying and the utter furiousness he feels at himself getting even more horrendous with each second.

Ethan gives up and pushes his food away. That's all he can take. He hopes nobody notices, that nobody forces him to eat more and that nobody can notice the pain on his face. But they don't.

"It's great food, isn't it?" Cal says. He looks so very satisfied at Ethan's almost finished plate. "Mollie helped."

Ethan pretends to agree. To him, it tastes like giving up, but to others he supposes it must taste good. "Yeah, it's lovely." Cal nods, and then he focuses himself on drinking champagne contentedly.

Noel - carefree as ever - laughs from across the table. "I think I've eaten my body-weight in food."

"Probably! The amount you ate, honestly, I think you're rivalling me," Alicia giggles with him, her contagious joy making everybody else laugh too. Smiles all around - almost, anyway.

Ethan just sits in agony. He picks up his water bottle from the floor that he brought everywhere with him and takes a sip from it. It's the only distraction he has got. Bad thoughts are hissing in his mind and his stomach feels like it's going to split. A horrible chill runs down his spine, which feels like he's being skinned with icy knives.

 _So fat._

He wishes the thoughts would stop but they're relentless. He will throw the food up, he will make himself feel better! But, until he manages to slip away, he has to put up with this demented voice.

It's torture as he bides his time. All he thinks about is everything he's been doing. He harms his body for a peace of mind that nobody will understand. Eating feels like a punishment when starving feels like a treat. It's all he wants to do - starve, or become empty.

Ethan pinches the side of his thigh discreetly, hating and hating the fat that stayed on his body. It haunts him. Every living moment. It's like being hyper aware of the fat which stays and never leaves. Not being able to move without thinking of the fat attached to your body is a special sort of hell.

 _Everyone is deep in conversation. Now's the time. Run!_

Ethan's stomach churns in order to remind him of the giant amount of food he'd eaten- as if he needs another reminder. He needs to get in control.

"Sorry, I'm just going to nip to my locker," Ethan quickly gets up. "I've got to get something."

Nobody has the chance to say anything. He's gone.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Is he okay?"

Cal looks at Mollie. His full glass is mid-way to his mouth. "Is who okay?"

"Your brother," Mollie says. "He just rushed off."

"Oh. I didn't notice…"

"Forget I said anything, I'm sure he is," Mollie says in reassurance. "It's just unlike him. Anyway, how are you enjoying that champagne?"

Cal smiles at Mollie, forgetting Ethan. He believes Mollie wholeheartedly, especially after the other day and Ethan's speech which reassured Cal no end. He'd slept the night, worry free! Plus, Ethan ate all of that which relaxed his nerves. He's fine.

Oh, yes, she asked a question. "It beats beer."

"It does," Mollie grins. She picks his glass up and clinked it with Cal's, looking the picture of calm. "To happy beginnings, hey?"

Cal nods. "Yeah," he takes a sip of his glass. "To… happy beginnings."

Everybody takes a toast after Mollie and Cal, when Charlie suggests it. With a room full of laughter and smiles, Cal truly believes that the department will be a happier place after this display of solidarity.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 _Cough. Cough again. Down your throat. No, don't stop. Shouldn't have eaten that. Shouldn't._

 _You only did it because you truly had to._

 _Never going to eat again. Never. Horrible, feels like hell._

 _Cal's fault. If he wasn't there, you wouldn't have had to eat. Wouldn't have been guilt tripped._

 _Hate Cal._

 _Don't stop, ever! Punch stomach, bring everything up. Harder. Harder. Cough if it'll work, get it out or you'll be miserable forever! Is that what you want? This'll make you happy. Promise._

Happy. What's that like? Ethan doesn't know but the demented voice in his head sure does, so, best listen to them. By the time he's finished throwing up, hot tears are rolling down his face but he's contented. His mind is at peace, like he's floating somewhere where worries don't exist and weight isn't an issue. Because he's controlled it.

Maybe he does know what happy is like - for a split second, when he's throwing up - but it disappears in a heartbeat,

 _Fuck, my throat hurts._

His throat feels painfully raw from the gagging and his knees are going numb from resting on the cold floor. But that's okay. He coughs as he lifts his head from the loo - classy - and covers his mouth with trembling hands. He's not sure if he's ever seen his hands shake so bloody much.

Oh, he shouldn't have done that. It was stupid. It was dangerous. It was bad behavior. It was...

It was just what he needed. Mission accomplished, then.

Ethan sniffs back the tears, dabbing at his eyes. It's ridiculous to cry about something he'd brought on himself, he thinks. He tells himself to man up. But he'll always hate that expression - it's a load of sexist rubbish. But it helps. So he tells it to himself over and over.

There wasn't enough time for any more purging. His knuckles were already sore and his lower stomach already bruised. But he felt empty now.

 _An empty stomach is the best thing you could ever ask for. Enjoy it._

Ethan wipes his eyes one last time and exits the cubicle, his vomit flushed. He washes his hands, refusing to look at the mirror as if it'd eat him if he did, and then decides that it's time to get out. Got to face everyone at some point. With any luck, they won't notice he even left.

Absentmindedly, he walks out of the men's bathroom. His eyes are glued to the floor. All he can think about right now is what he just did and the absolute… oh, it was bad, but it's what he needs. He vaguely remembers saying to himself, last time, that he wouldn't do it again. Sort of a little thought, nothing big. But he did. Why doesn't he feel guilty?

In his travels, his eyes are looking at the floor. Then they meet some heeled shoes, right outside of the bathroom door.

 _Oh, shit._

"Ethan?"

He looks up to the sound of his name, heart racing. Of course, it had to be Lily. It couldn't have been the cleaning lady, someone deaf or someone mute. No. It _had_ to be someone who could ruin everything - probably Lily's intentions in a nutshell.

"Why are you standing around here?" Ethan says. His voice is shaky. "You should be at the party."

Lily looks at him, shocked. Her eyes are filled with alarm as she completely disregards everything he just said, as if she didn't hear him. "Oh, Ethan… I really didn't know things were getting this bad."

"What?"

"That's not healthy. God, I'm going to have to tell Cal. Or a doctor. Or a fucki… I mean, a _bloody_ psychiatrist."

Ethan tries to walk past her - as if not seeing her would make this reality go away - but she stops him.

"Don't walk away! God, I can't believe this."

"What are you talking about, Lily?" Ethan demands, as if he doesn't know exactly. He's lying to himself, over and over and over. She knows - all too well - what's going on.

Lily looks around, checking nobody is listening. Nobody is. Her furious focus returns to him. "You made yourself throw up, didn't you?"

"No!"

"You did, I heard!"

 _Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh God no. It's confirmed. She knows what you just did._

 _Make a lie up! She'll tell everyone. Then they'll stop you. Then you'll be sad and fat forever! You don't want that._

"Alright, I did throw up," it feels weird to admit that. And Lily perks up immediately. She goes from to furious to sympathetic.

A faint, pitying smile is on her face. "Thank you for being honest. Look, we can-"

"Because I took a bunch of pills for a headache," Ethan interrupts. "A bit too many. I threw them up in case I had an overdose by mistake. But it's fine now."

Lily pauses. The lie must seem plausible, but she's not entirely convinced.

"I haven't been sleeping right, that's why I've got the headache. Plus, I've been… on my phone a lot recently, that can't have helped."

 _That's it, keep 'opening up' to her. Keep lying. Seem vulnerable. She'll believe that._

"You do know what I think you just did, don't you?"

Ethan nods quickly. "Yeah. Throwing up food purposely. But I'm not. I'd never. And I eat all the time, healthily."

"Not sure if I believe the last bit."

 _Meaning she does believe the first bit. Result!_

"Your choice," Ethan says. He manages to walk past her. "Anyway, thank you for your concern."

Lily stands, watching after him. Then she quickly follows in his footsteps to the party. "You're welcome," she pauses. "And I still hate you, by the way."

Ethan looks at her briefly and sighs. "Don't blame you."

Lily looks like she's about to say something else, but they've already entered the party. Everyone is up, the food cleared away, and the music is on.. A huge crowd is surround Duffy and Charlie, who are wrapped up in each other, having their first dance as a married couple. It seems like they've been doing so for a while, as others are starting to join.

Mollie's arms are wrapped around Cal, slow dancing with him. He looks absolutely besotted - just like Charlie does with his own wife. It's lovely to see. Seemingly, he barely noticed Ethan leave.

Iain walks over. "Lily! I was looking for you," his eyes turn to Ethan. It's obvious he must know about the argument from before, but he doesn't say anything. "Oh. Everything okay, Lily?"

She looks at Ethan, who pretends to find the floor very interesting. For a moment, Ethan thinks she's going to say something. But she just smiles. "Everything's fine," she looks at Ethan. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ethan nods quickly. "Just brilliant."

"Right. Okay. That's... good," Iain says, relieved. "Let's dance then, gorgeous," Iain smiles. He then smirks at Ethan. "Don't worry mate, I meant _Lily_."

Ethan fakes a laugh. Iain smiles, then looks at his own girlfriend with a totally different expression. He's clearly enchanted by her. They take each others arms and get lost in the crowd, dancing to the beautiful music of _Sleeping at Last_ which is just about coming to a close.

He watches all the happy couples dancing. Obviously, he's alone. His eyes watch Cal, as him and Mollie giggle together. They seem content. Mollie then points to her shoes, complaining, and has to sit down as she takes them off and rubs her feet. Cal chats to her for a while, but the moment Ethan takes his eye off of him, he's rushed over.

"Mollie's tired. Wanna dance?"

Ethan looks at Cal, wondering how much he's had to drink. "Cal, that's... weird, I'm not going to dance with my-"

"Quit talking and let's dance," Cal grins. "You don't forget that you convinced me to sleep in the same bed as you the other day, do you?"

Ethan's not given the chance to say anything as Cal seizes his arm. Before long, they're sucked into the crowd of dancers as the music lightens up and turns louder. Somehow, Ethan enjoys his time with Cal as they dance, a mess of arms and legs, tripping over each other and erupting with laughter.

 _But you still hate Cal, remember? He forced you to eat that._

Ethan stiffens only slightly, but continues dancing with his joyful older brother. Stay happy, stay happy. It's a continuous effort. As Cal trips over for the fourth time, though, under the influence of so much celebratory alcohol, Ethan manages to laugh again.

 _Chin up,_ speaks the shameful thoughts in his mind, _because dancing will burn calories._

That does make him feel happy - close to it, anyway - and accomplished. After almost tripping over himself, Cal's the one laughing as they grip onto each other. Everyone else seems to disappear because all they can feel is content and all they can see is each other. It's a good night.

It's strange. He started the day feeling awful, then he starved and then ate and vomited and it's ending brilliantly.

Maybe what he's doing isn't so bad after all, if it has such a nice outcome today. Well, that's his justification, anyway.

And when the three of them do leave, a perfectly joyful and drunken bunch, they'll collapse onto the sofa together and fall asleep happy.

It doesn't matter just then what the morning brings because he's got this moment to cherish, even for just a couple snatched hours in a haze of alcohol. But that's more joy than he's had of late - and it's good enough for him.


	15. 14: Passing Time

**Guest:** _He really is, and hopefully they will at some point. Thank you. Thanks for the review!_

 **Em (guest):** _I'm happy you do - thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _It really is scary. His mind is tiring him out, you're right there. Ethan fooled Lily with his lie - or did he. It would really be good if Ethan got help now before it spirals out of control. And Ethan thinking the day is good because of those things is unhealthy, definitely. Thank you for your review!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Haha, me too! It seems like something she'd only do if she was really frustrated, but be good at saving herself. Thank you for your review!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **20th of February 2017 (8 days later)**

Ethan's busy measuring how many grams of peanuts he's going to allow himself for dinner tonight when Cal rings.

"What?"

 _"That's mean,"_ Cal says from the other line. _"You're meant to start with 'hello', that's what's called being polite."_

Ethan smiles to himself. For this particular and briefly snatched moment, he's not got that irritating madness against Cal - presently, he seems to actually like him. It's odd, but probably because he slept a little today. Though he's hated Cal for quite a bit recently. Honestly, he's not sure why.

"Did you call for a reason, or just to teach me a lesson on being polite?"

 _"Yeah, actually,"_ Cal says. _"Just wanted to ring and let you know that I'm... working late tonight."_

Ethan pauses, obsessively checking he's not given himself over his limit of peanuts by mistake, before responding to Cal. "You can tell me you're out with Mollie, you know. I won't get jealous."

Cal sighs from miles away. _"Alright, I am going out with Mollie. Probably for a while. But I'll be back before morning, promise."_

"Cal, it's fine, I'll be alright on my own," Ethan says. He empties his couple hundred grams of peanuts into a bowl and begins cutting an apple in half, phone pressed between his shoulder to his ear. "I am a grown-up, you know. Also, you could've texted."

 _"You never reply!"_

"I get busy," Ethan says. "Plus my phone has been playing up, recently."

He's a liar. It's only because most days he despises Cal, so he ignores any message he's given. Perhaps that's because he takes care of him, and Ethan really doesn't want him to. The same as what he says to Mollie, often times. Or maybe it's just a brother thing - or a 'him' thing - and he's over-thinking it. Yeah. That's probably it.

 _"Alright, alright,"_ Cal says. Then his teasing tone takes control. _"Aw, are you stroppy because I disrupted your tea?"_

Ethan looks down at his few peanuts and chopped apple. He shakes his head to thin air. "No, you didn't. It's still cooking."

 _"What are you having?"_

Fighting back his now bubbling annoyance against Cal, he sighs. It's always the mention of food that makes an inner spark light up inside Ethan. "Curry. I've actually got to cook the rice now, so go away."

 _"You're such a loving brother. Anyway, I'd better go, actually. Night, Ethan."_

"Night, Cal," Ethan says. Before he hangs up, he quickly adds: "Drive safe, okay?" He's an asshole, but Ethan still doesn't wish ill fortune on him. That's siblings for you.

Then he's left alone as Cal says goodbye after hanging up, and the glaring feeling of loneliness as he's left alone says hello.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **25th of February 2017 (5 days later)**

Another 5 pounds. Brilliant.

Ethan looks down at the scales. His hard work is beginning to pay off. Though it's not hard work, really - it'd be harder work to gain the weight. But he still feels accomplished and motivated. Not as much as he used to, though. The voice in his head is being very demanding, recently.

From his starting weight, he's lost over 20 pounds. That's about 9 kilograms. It seems fast, but he remembers vaguely that he didn't ever feel in the _'mood'_ to eat even back in 2016, which he supposes must've helped. Lucky.

"How much longer are you going to be?"

Ethan jumps at Mollie's voice, quickly getting off of the scales and sliding them under the counter. He clears his throat. "I'm shaving!"

From behind the door, Ethan can hear Mollie chuckling. "I didn't ask, but okay! I'll wait."

"Uh... thank you," Ethan cringes at himself. "Bye."

"Bye, honey."

She walks away almost immediately, humming to herself. Ethan breathes out a sigh of relief, because Mollie remains none of the wiser.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **28th of February 2017 (3 days later)**

They pass in the corridor. Where there once were pleasantries exchanged and perhaps a conversation, there is nothing. Not a single smile or anything.

Ethan looks straight past Lily. She looks straight past him. Seems like she can hold a grudge.

"Mrs Beauchamp wanted to see you," Ethan says, voice devoid of anything it used to be. He's unsure of how to explain it - perhaps lifeless. Her response is very much the same, as she doesn't say a thing. " _Lily_."

"I heard you."

Ethan ignores her plain tone. "She wants you now."

"I'm going."

And that's the way every conversation really goes with her. They say nothing, they pass each other, and continue everyday life.

Lily clearly remembers how he treated her, all that time ago - and she's not letting go.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **2nd of March 2017 (2 days later)**

It's the middle of the night when they return home. Both drunk like a couple of irresponsible teenagers, they stumble into the dark flat.

"Shhhh," Mollie whispers, giggling as Cal trips over something on the floor. " _Shhhh_!"

Cal gets to his feet, swaying and grinning. "Whoops!"

They link arms and do their best to make it as quietly as possible to their room together. Everywhere is silent, dark and clean. In the living room is Ethan, who fell fast asleep perhaps waiting for them and is wrapped up double with a blanket. He doesn't wake when they pass, exhausted to unconsciousness.

Cal accidentally slams their bedroom door closed behind them, falling against it. Mollie bursts into peals of giggles as Cal fastens his hand over his mouth.

"S...shit," Cal says, his voice slurred.

Mollie wipes her tears of laughter from her face. They settle down - fully clothed, with shoes on - in bed, huddling into each other's arms.

"Be quiet, or you'll wake Ethan!" Mollie warns half-heartedly and tiredly. She cuddles into his chest. "I'm _shattered_."

"You drank… well, you drank half the bar, so, no wonder."

"Yep! You did too. You know, I don't think we'll _ever_ grow up, Cal."

Cal grins at her sweet drunk voice, holding her closer. "Nope. Aw, my party girl. Never change."

Mollie rests her head against his chest. She giggles and wraps her arms around him, dragging the duvet up. It's comfy, protecting them from the bites of cold. "Cal?"

"Yeah?" Is the slurred reply.

"Love you."

There's silence for a few moments. Mollie wonders if she really said it or if it was her intoxicated brain making things up.

"Love you too."

Mollie's quickened heart rate slows down. In sync, they hold each other closer and fall asleep in the others arms - at peace.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **10th of March 2017 (8 days later)**

Ethan sighs for the millionth time today. Every now and then, he'll get a patient who comes into the hospital and leaves but still remains in his head, just lurking. Every doctor talks about a patient they've never forgotten.

As Ethan stitches up 17-year-old Liam Dyer's arm, he knows this is one of them.

He just doesn't understand. When he was 17, he'd never imagined doing something so painful to himself - not that he remembers, anyway. Ethan was a happy child and went on to be an only slightly angsty teenager, despite his parent struggles. He supposes every person is different, but it more than sucks when a teenager can't be a teenager.

"You done yet?"

Ethan shakes his head. "No, not yet. Soon. Is it hurting?"

"Obviously," Liam says carelessly. "I suppose it's what I get for cutting into my arm, though."

Such an offhand mention. Ethan shivers. He doesn't understand how someone can be in so much pain to do something like that to themselves. Hell, he doesn't want to understand. He wants to live life blissfully unaware of the deeper, darker parts of patient's lives. But at the same time, he doesn't. Often times, it's awful to be living in ignorance.

"You've been weirdly quiet."

Ethan looks up at Liam momentarily, before focusing his attention back on the self-inflicted wound. "Sorry, I suppose I'm not much of a talker."

Liam shrugs. "Oh. Most times when I'm in the hospital, the doctors always nag me about stuff. You're not one of them?"

"No," Ethan says. "I think nagging is one of the most annoying things a person can do."

"Agreed."

"Unless they're doing it to... help someone," Ethan starts. He sighs. "Liam, I have to ask - how many times have you been admitted to hospital with dangerously deep or infected self-harm cuts?"

Liam doesn't say a word.

"Liam, please. And don't lie, I could just check your notes."

"Think I preferred you when you were silent," Liam says bitingly. But, eventually, he admits: "Seven times, alright?"

"Right. That's really not good, is it? I know you're not going to like this, but I'm going to get you in touch with the children's mental health services."

Liam immediately shakes his head. He pulls his arm away from Ethan, ignoring his cautions. "No chance. They don't help. Besides, my Dad will go ballistic if he knows I've... I've started cutting again."

"Again?" Ethan says. Liam looks down but hesitantly nods. Gently, Ethan takes Liam's arm into his hands and cleans up the mess he made of it. "Please stay still, it's really important. So you stopped for a bit, did you? Did something happen?"

Liam glares. "I don't want to talk about it."

Etjam stays silent, his mind slipping into overdrive. He has no experience with self-harm, but even he can notice the pain in Liam's eyes. Liam, a 17-year-old boy who hides it all. Carefully, Ethan plans what else to say. "It is a bit of a big deal, Liam. I've only known you for less than an hour and I'm already worried for you."

"I'm always careful when I do it."

"Then why have you been in the hospital seven times?" Ethan asks in the most patient voice he can manage. Liam says nothing. "Anyway, that's beside the point and you know it," Ethan says gently. finishes his stitching on Liam's arm, placing his needle down. "We're done. Liam, is there anyone I can call for you?"

Liam refuses to meet Ethan's eye. "No, it's fine, doctor. I'm late for work anyway."

God, he's 17 and he's working already. Ethan feels an odd sensation - it's like someone's squeezing his heart. That's the most he's felt in days, so overcome by numbness and the occasional feeling of frustration. But today he realizes what the term 'pulled heartstrings' means.

"I'm going to go now."

"Hey," Ethan says, stopping him before he flees. "I can't just let you go, you know. How long is it until you come in here with a deeper injury? Or sepsis? There are real dangers to it, both to your physical health and mental health. I don't want to alarm you, but I really must tell your guardians."

Liam looks at Ethan properly for the first time. "Dad already knows."

"Really?"

"Well, is the sky blue?" Liam asks, to which Ethan nods. "There you go. Honestly, he does know. And he's not happy about it. Anyway, I've got to go."

Ethan's aware - it's all Liam's clamoured about since he stepped into this place. Ethan stands in his way a few seconds longer, wishing and wishing he knew what to say. Nothing comes to mind - nothing at all. So he lets him go. Liam gives Ethan a weak smile, and then suddenly Ethan knows just what to do.

"Doctor Hardy," Ethan says quickly. Liam turns around, confused. "That's my name. If you want to... get help, you can do. Just ask for me at reception and I'll do all I can. Please. Don't hesitate to."

Liam gives him a brief nod, his brown hair flopping into his face. "Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it."

"I really hope you do."

"Mmmm hmmm," Liam says. His tone of voice is indifferent, but it's all in his eyes. Truly, the eyes seem to be the window into the soul, as awfully cliche as it sounds. "Thanks. You know, for stitching my arm. And other stuff."

Ethan just smiles instead of saying anything. With that, Liam finally leaves the cubicle. Ethan watches after him, unable to take his eyes from the teenager's back as if something awful would happen if he were to quit watching, right up to the moment that he is completely out of sight. And then Ethan sits in the cubicle alone, burying his head in his hands. There's nothing in his stomach but sadness and guilt. There must've been more he could've done, but the system doesn't work that way. Nothing he can do.

He knows Liam won't come back. And that's probably the worst thing.

It just reminds him of what a depressing, sad and despairing place the world is - and how little his presence helps to stop it being that way

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **24th of March 2017 (14 days later)**

Cal is really starting to _piss_ him off.

It's like going back 15 odd years, where neither brother could stand one another. All they'd do was argue. As you grow, screaming at your siblings and hitting them becomes rarer. The natural frustration manifests into different ways of presenting itself, more subtle forms. This is one of them.

"Can you pass me the salt?"

Ethan looks up at his plate to his brother. He's already tense and irritable enough, seeing as he's sitting at dinner - which is just chicken and a salad, of which the latter he'd had a single bite of.

"It's right there."

"It's closer to you," Cal says. His eyes go from the salt to Ethan again. "Eth, pass the _salt_."

Ethan, after restraining the urge to roll his eyes, passes it. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Cal answers sarcastically.

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, you know."

"Wow, get that from a Christmas cracker, did you?"

Mollie suddenly bangs her fists down on the table. They both turn so quickly that Ethan is concerned he gave himself whiplash. Mollie looks shocked at herself, but doesn't hold back fire. "Be quiet, both of you! That is enough, please stop arguing!" Mollie inhales sharply. "It's only salt, for goodness sake."

Ethan refuses to look at her. "We're not arguing about salt, or anything!"

"No," Cal says. This is the only thing he seems to be agreeing with Ethan about. "Not at all."

"For…" Mollie picks her plate up. "I'm eating in the other room."

Before either brother can say anything, she leaves them to it. Cal stabs his food with his fork and sighs.

"Well done, now you've upset her."

Ethan looks at Cal, outraged. "Me? That was all you!"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," Cal snaps. Knowing exactly what'll push Ethan's buttons, he says: "Aw, are you _hangry_ , Ethan?"

"That's not a word," Ethan says with a huff. He gets up, leaving his plate. "Enjoy your bloody salt."

He's the second person to leave the room within a minute. Cal sits alone. Ethan doesn't look back, passing Mollie but not speaking to her. Their feelings can wait, he's got math to do in his room. How many calories can anger burn?

It's endless, the arguing. Ethan's shocked at how quickly it cropped up, though - it was unexpected.

But he knows why it happens so frequently, maybe - because Ethan is exhausted to frustration from the wars going on in his head and Cal is tired from work, because that's what it's like to be a doctor. You _get_ tired. And their moods are a deadly mix. Both argue over the most ridiculous things, but _salt_? It's an all time low.

Ethan sighs and listens to the sound of Cal apologizing to Mollie and then complaining about him in the other room. He knows how it'll end. Tomorrow, they'll make up and have a relatively civil relationship until Ethan snaps about something - because he's not as mild as he used to be - and then it starts over.

Same pattern, same routine. Over and over. And it's all because Ethan isn't who he once was, and Cal can't _stand_ it.

It'll all blow up eventually - the question is _when_.


	16. 15: Worsening

**Guest:** _With any luck he will do - thank you for your review!_

 **(Guest) casualtyfics111:** _I'm so flattered you think so, thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Yay! It's so good you think it's realistic with the sibling conversations and everything, I'm really happy you think so. I had to have at least one person happy in this story! And Cal definitely deserves happiness. But you're right, his mood drastically changes when he's around his brother. Isolation seems to be on the books for poor Ethan. I'm happy the time-skips work! There's a bunch in this chapter, but the upcoming one should be a bit more grounded into one single day. Thank you for your review!_

 **SiriuslyPctter:** __ _Hehe yay, it's cool you think they're cute! Liam's a character I liked writing, perhap I will bring him back one day! And you're right about the 'hangry' thing. He's lost a lot of weight, though I'm relieved it's not too drastic considering the timeframe. But living off of 500 or less calories a day I suppose really drops the pounds unhealthily, poor thing. Thank you for your review!_

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 **25th of March 2017 (1 day later)**

Another nightmare; the fourth time this week. It's getting continually worse now.

It's one of those where you can't just wake up and be relieved that it's not real. It's one where you sit for hours after. Where you're afraid to move or to even breathe because the intensity shook you to the very core. Your heart is pumping so viciously that you can hear the blood in your ears and, when you do eventually manage to breathe normally, it's laboured.

In other words, _no_ , it's not fun.

Ethan keeps telling himself that he's being silly. That if he goes to sleep, another nightmare is unlikely to come - and even if it does, then that's okay! It's a figment of his imagination, an image formed by his unconsciousness. Not a prediction of the future. It won't come true, surely, it can't.

A cold sweat covers his forehead. His eyelids feel heavy, wishing for relief but unable to close. It's tiring to be at war with himself all of the time.

Eventually, Ethan braves getting out of bed. The nightmare has left him breathless and parched, and the cure to that is lukewarm water from the tap. After checking that the place is silent, he walks silently across the floor and opens his door. Immediately, he cringes at the loud opening noise.

As expected, nobody is around. He makes his descent to the kitchen as quiet as possible before pouring a glass of water. The silence of the flat in the middle of the night is so odd, as though reality has been altered.

He stands wordlessly. More than a few times, he wishes that he had vodka in his glass instead of water - perhaps that'd block the recurrence of replaying his nightmare over and over in his battered mind.

 _There's no escape from him._

 _His arms are crossed. Cal is stood a bedroom that doesn't belong to him. He wears a stern expression paired with a cold glare. Fingernails are digging into his own arms, madness seeping into his eyes and covering his expression._

 _A shiver runs straight down Ethan's spine. He swallows. Cal hasn't looked this angry, ever. Ethan barely recognizes him._

 _"What… what're you doing in my room?" Ethan says to his brother, his voice barely reaching above a whisper. "I didn't say you could come in."_

 _Cal just stares. He's missing the warmth in his expression that he usually has, and the creases of happiness by his eyes are gone. Not a single word comes from his mouth._

 _Ethan doesn't like this. His body and mind feel unattached, but he still can register that he strongly dislikes this situation. "Cal, w-what's wrong?_

 _Cal fixes his cold eyes onto Ethan for an uncomfortable number of seconds, before turning and picking something up off of a cabinet. "Found something," he presses a book into Ethan's numb hands. "Fuck is wrong with you?"_

 _Ethan's stomach drops at the shock of Cal's sudden vulgar language. His eyes drop quickly to the book he'd been given._

 _It's his notebook - the one which he uses to document calories, his miles ran (on the rare occasion he had the energy to) and some snippets of what's going on in his head._

 _And Cal has found it._

 _"I read it from the beginning," Cal says. He takes a step closer to Ethan, towering over him. "You promised me. You said that you'd always be healthy, never be like our parents. Look at that, look at the calorie count, look at everything. You're just like them!"_

 _Ethan's heart begins hammering. "I'm nothing like them! Cal, I didn't mean to lie, I just-"_

 _Cal snatches the book back, his nails scratching Ethan's hand as he does. It doesn't hurt. He doesn't feel anything. "But you did lie! And you've let me down! I can't... I can't bear to look at you."_

 _As Cal turns away, disgust on his face, Ethan tries to pull him back. His movements are slow, but he grabs the back of Cal's t-shirt. In his mind, he's begging Cal to stop, to stay, but no words are surfacing._

 _"Get off me!" Cal rages. He turns back with an expression which terrifies Ethan to the core._

 _And then he pushes him - hard._

 _Then Ethan falls, but he never reaches the ground. Freefall. He sinks and plummets, tumbling downwards, and all he can see is Cal's face and a cloud of blackness above him as he descends unwillingly into the unknown._

Ethan hurriedly shakes his head, trying to get out of the nightmare. No, no, he doesn't want to think about it. He wants to sleep.

Quietly, he walks back to his room. A check of the clock on the wall tells him it's only just gone 10, which is early. Mollie and Cal are awake by the look of the light flooding in through their closed doors.

Ethan pauses as he hears talking.

 _"-I just... honestly, we need a holiday. Argumentative isn't even the word. I'm sick to the back teeth of his-"_

" _Honey, you're tired. And that argument happened ages ago, I don't see why you can't just let it go."_

" _Because it keeps happening!"_ Sharp exhale. _"But whatever, I'm done with it. Have you-"_

Ethan stops listening abruptly, and with the familiar stinging at the back of his throat, he silently makes his way back to his room. He doesn't want to listen, choked up and hurt. After closing his door and shutting the murmurs of their voices out as they talk about Mollie's most recent online clothes order, he sits in bed. Sleep comes after a few moments - and this time, it's not nightmare ridden. Perhaps his mind is giving him a break for tonight.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **30th of March (5 days later)**

It's gotten to the point where it's more of a surprise if he doesn't collapse at least once a day.

Ethan reminds himself that he ended up in blackness because he turned around too fast. Or got up too hurriedly. Or is exhausted from a lack of sleep. Or because he's just plain useless as a human, and his body malfunctions easily. It's not because the only thing he's consumed today is a black tea - because that feels like it's strengthening him.

He picks himself up off the floor when he comes back to earth. Another tea is needed. With a horrendous headache beginning, he walks to the kettle and puts it on. The unit is useful, it's something to hold onto as the kettle begins to grumble and steam starts erupting, condensation dripping.

A couple of seconds pass before Mollie enters. She walks so effortlessly, her face not at all screwed up with pain, her skin glowing with healthiness. Ethan wonders if she passes out as often as he does - but he knows the answer.

"Morning," Mollie says. She eyes the kettle. "Ooh, make me one, please."

Ethan nods and pulls out another mug. The clattering hurts his already pounding head. "Alright. We've got no sugar, by the way."

"That's alright. I prefer sweet, but it'll do."

"Me too," Ethan says - a needless twist of the truth. It feels like the white lie is rotting his teeth like the sugar he claims to prefer compared to the bliss of calorie-free water. "You want milk?"

"Absolutely," Mollie says. She reaches past him to make herself breakfast, pulling out a ceramic bowl and a box of Frosties. Ethan watches in amazement as she doesn't even check the calories in them. "Did you sleep well, honey?"

Ethan thinks back to his night sleep and decides it's probably best to tell another harmless white lie. Because it's not going to hurt anyone. The truth is ugly, he might as well keep it to himself.

"Yes, thank you. Slept like a baby."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **31st of March 2017 (1 day later)**

Mollie is in the middle of filling her handbag with necessities in the living room when Cal walks in. He drops a quick kiss on her forehead, making her smile, before sitting on the sofa.

"Don't get comfy," Mollie says. "We're off soon."

"Where?"

Mollie raises an arched eyebrow. " _Work_. Night shift, remember?"

"Oh," Cal switches his phone off almost as quickly as he'd switched it on. "Right. I didn't forget."

"Clearly," Mollie says, in a tone that meant business but paired with a smile. "I know you got hungry on our last night shift so I made a bunch of snacks, it'll save money. All you do is raid the vending machine otherwise."

Cal peers into her handbag, _'oooh'ing_ at the food in sandwich bags. "Ah, brilliant. How did I even survive before you came into my life?"

"I don't know, but you were sandwich-less," Mollie grins. "But shh, I'm sure you managed just fine. I sincerely hope you're not one of those useless men who can't even slice bread."

"Baby, I was born for slicing bread. I can make a mean baguette."

"Well, I'm not arguing with you," Mollie says, laughing. "Right. Let's head off."

"Do we have to?"

"Yes! Come on, let's go," Mollie tries to drag Cal, but he's too heavy for her. " _Cal_!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Mollie walks to the coat rack as Cal begrudgingly follows her. She pulls on her brand new jacket - a sleek black - and puts her shoes on. Before she can reach the door, Ethan's hurrying past her. As usual, he's avoiding them both. He leaves the door open for them before walking down the steps. Never does he take the lift.

"Ethan!" Mollie calls. "You want a snack for later?"

"No," Ethan calls, disappearing down the stairwell. "Bye."

Mollie's barely surprised at his indifferent, weary tone. It's hardly a shock - in fact,it's more surprising if he holds a conversation without looking exhausted by the end of it.

She forgets him. Then she arranges her hair neatly, pats Cal's down, and they're off.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **2nd of April (2 days later)**

A new day, a new patient. She hums when she walks, her large sunglasses slipping down her nose. Ethan wonders what the sunglasses are in aid of as they're inside, but puts it down to 'fashion'.

"Sit on the bed for me," Ethan says, waiting until she does.

This young lady - Lucinda - has mossy green eyes paired with a small mouth. Her hair is fried from a dodgy dye job to an unnatural bottle blond, and it's cut with a choppy fringe with the rest long. She's shorter than Ethan - perhaps around five foot. It seems as though she's healthy enough but the blueness of her nails and pale mask on her pink face indicates unhealthiness within her body.

"Why are you here?"

"Fainted at work," she says, holding her arm out as checks her pulse to make sure it's not too quick. "What's your name?"

Pulse is fine. Ethan looks at her as he picks up the clipboard holding his notes. Oh, what an _idiot_. He forgot to even introduce himself to her. "Uh, Ethan. Doctor Hardy, I mean. But call me what you like."

"Alright," she says, as if she doesn't really care. "I'm Lucinda. You probably read that from my notes."

"I did. Now, Lucinda, do you have any idea why you fainted at work?"

Lucinda blinks. "Straight to business. Wow. Well, I probably fainted because I haven't eaten in a while. Well, ages," she says. With a strange look on her face, she looks straight into his eyes. "Also, I'm on my ladies days."

"Right," Ethan says. He presumes she means menstrual cycle. Looking down, he does his best to stay present. She's his sixth patient in an hour and he's already got breaches. Mustn't get stressed. As he checks her blood sugar levels - which seem perfectly fine - he keeps the conversation up. "So what do you work in?"

"Office stuff. The odd job here and there. Bit of everything, really."

Ethan steps back and looks down at her notes. "Ah, I see. Anyway. I'm going to run a few scans, see what caused this."

"You don't seem to care," she accuses. "And do you _have_ to run scans? I don't have the time, I've got places to go."

"I must treat you properly, Lucinda," Ethan says, sighing. His boredom must be evident. Nothing is making him happy, and this patient is worsening it. "Back in a bit."

Lucinda huffs. "I have no time!"

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to make some."

Lucinda, frustrated, suddenly bursts out: "I fainted because I'm anorexic, you moron!"

Ethan stops. Quickly, he looks down at her notes. There's no mention of Anorexia Nervosa on his notes, or any other eating disorder. She has no pre-existing conditions.

"Your… your notes don't say this."

"Well, I've not been evaluated yet," Lucinda says.

She looks awfully bouncy for someone who just fainted, her face brightening as she smiles animatedly. It's not normal behavior for someone who just admitted to allegedly being unwell, surely, they'd be a little more serious and grown up about it.

"But I've stopped eating for a bunch of weeks, so I must be anorexic by now."

Ethan drops his clipboard. She looks down at it, her face crinkled. Ethan, fighting his shock and disgust, picks it back up.

And just like that, his patience is gone.

"Leave."

Lucinda pauses. "Uh… what?"

"Get out of this hospital," Ethan says, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. It's never that deep, never so frightening. "I'm not treating a patient like you."

"A patient like me?" Lucinda demands. She springs up from the bed. Someone who just fainted recently would still be struggling. She is absolutely fine. "I… I fainted! I'm probably anorexic from the amount I've been starving. I tried to eat this morning and I felt _sick_."

"Because you're menstruating, you…" Ethan takes in a shaky breath. "That's why you felt sick. Listen, you are _not_ unwell. I don't know why on earth you're thinking you've got an eating disorder. The cheek of you! Coming in here, saying you've got this, that and the other… You didn't even faint, did you?" Ethan accuses. "I knew you didn't!"

"I-I did!"

"Just leave," Ethan says. Her face goes scarlett. " _Leave_!"

Lucinda glares, humiliated. "Fine! I'll go elsewhere."

"Yeah, do that."

She glares at him again. After putting her sunglasses back on, she huffs for the millionth time and walks off.

In less than a few seconds, the sound of walking comes back to the cubicle which Lucinda just departed. Ethan, standing there looking lost, is met by Cal.

"What's up?" Cal asks, looking from ethan to the back of Lucinda. "That's your patient, isn't it? Where's she going?"

"Home," Ethan snaps. "Just leave me alone, I've got to get on."

Cal catches him by the shoulders before he can barge past. "Hey, watch it. Don't talk like that! I just wanted to know what was going on with your patient."

"She's a time-waster, _that's_ what's going on with her," Ethan says, shaking Cal off of him. "I don't know why she thought to lie about fainting, to claim she had an illness that she obviously doesn't have. It's ridiculous. I'm so sick of the romanticization of eating disorders, she's clearly hooked on it."

Cal looks at Ethan for a few more seconds. Then, he takes him by the sleeve of his scrub top and yanks him out of the cubicle, facing forward, his destination concreted in his mind. "Staff room."

"Uh, no, get-"

"Just quit arguing!"

Cal wins. He drags Ethan to the desired and empty room. After sitting him down, Cal switches the kettle on. He's too British for his own good.

Ethan rests his elbows on his knees, sighing deeply. "What?"

Cal looks down at him. Then, he rests against the unit, arms crossed. "By the sounds of it, you're right about Lucinda being a bit of a… time waster."

"Yeah, thank you."

"But you shouldn't have lost your rag like that," Cal says. He sounds scolding, as if Ethan's a little child. "That's not very _you_ , is it?"

Ethan looks down. Now Cal's mentioned it, he feels the familiar sensation of guilt filling his mind. "Well, I… okay, you might be right, but-"

"But nothing. Look, Ethan, what's up?" Cal says. He sits down, a couple of inches between them both on the sofa. "Something's wrong. I don't have to be a clever guy to realize this - even though I obviously am one."

Ethan appreciates Cal's last statement to make him laugh, and he does. It's forced but it's a laugh. "Nothing's up, Caleb. I'm tired and stressed, like everyone else in this building. Worry about Lucinda."

"There's no need to worry about Lucinda, cause Mollie went after her. By what I've heard of her, she's a usual here," Cal says. "It's just attention seeking, as much as I hate to say it. She claimed she was hearing voices last Saturday, and the other day she said she'd broken her arm when it was just bruised. Obviously, she needs help. And Mollie's going to get her in touch with a counsellor, and hopefully she'll stop when she gets the attention she's been craving."

The puzzle piece slots in. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Some of Ethan's guilt fades away, but there's an aftertaste he can't get rid of. He still shouldn't have snapped. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

Ethan sighs, hating the fact that he's now got to repeat it again when it already tasted so awful to say. "I'm sorry for snapping at her. You can tell Connie."

Cal is about to speak when there's the sound of someone clearing their throat above them. With dread, Ethan lifts his head and looks at the tall, glaring lady.

Connie stares down at them. "Tell Connie _what_?"

Oh, she's got the worst timing.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **10th of April 2017 (8 days later)**

"See you later."

Cal disappears out of the door as Ethan is left alone. He's going to work, whilst Ethan's not allowed. No night shifts, Connie said, because - apparently - he can't be trusted. Ethan hates the fact that he almost agrees.

It's slow, the next few days. Ethan is in Connie's bad books and the patience she once had with him is disintegrating. That's alright. It's not like he's not used to such things going wrong.

"Ooh, Hollyoaks is on!"

Ethan sighs as Mollie sits by him on the sofa, excitedly putting the television on. She pulls open a bag of Doritos, which she eats contentedly. Ethan sits silently as the theme tune begins to play.

"Love this show," Mollie says enthusiastically. She crunches one of the crisps, and Ethan inwardly shivers. "Who's your favourite?"

Ethan shrugs. The theme tune ends and the show unfolds. "I don't know any of them."

"Oh," Mollie says. She sounds almost shocked. Nothing else is said by her apart from a crunch from a Dorito every now and then.

And again. Another crunch.

Seconds pass. Another crunch.

Ethan feels himself twitch with annoyance. _Don't you dare, Mollie. Don't you dare-_

Crunch.

Ethan gets up off the sofa all of a sudden, making Mollie jump.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Ethan says, frustrated beyond belief. For no good reason, his eyes are prickling. "I'm going to shower."

"But Hollyoaks is still-"

"I'm _going_ , Mollie."

Ethan makes it to his bathroom quickly and proceeds to close the door, drowning out her calls. She doesn't go after him. Why would she? She's just his brother's girlfriend. Why would she care about him? The short answer is that she wouldn't.

And nobody else really does either.

He switches on the shower and sits on the closed toilet lid. It's peaceful. The guilt of wasting water isn't on his mind as it usually is. He rests his head in his hands. Nothing feels right anymore and he doesn't know why.

But it's alright - it's all okay.

Ethan lifts his weary body and pulls out the scales from under the cupboard. After shedding his clothes - it's got to be exact, no extra baggage making the number a lie - he looks down at it.

Everything is okay. It is, only because he's just hit 50 kg. And that almost stops his unexplainable tears.


	17. 16: Mistakes

**SiriuslyPctter:** _Great! Lucinda was a little odd, yes - and we'll see about that! And me too. Those sort of dreams are scary, and everyone has had one so it's easy to sympathise with how much it shook Ethan I suppose! Oh, there's a lot more angst. So glad you laughed at that part and understand my humour - someone eating crisps loudly is extremely annoying and I was laughing all the way through writing it. Thank you for the luck - I needed it - and thank you also for your review!_

 **Guest:** _Haha, it is! Let's hope so. Thank you for your review!_

 **Casslourocks:** _Aw, thank you so much! I'm so happy I've got the desired effect across. Hopefully, someone will notice. To us, it's obvious, but Ethan's so good at hiding everything that nobody can notice. As his weight drops, though, suspicion will be inevitable. And yay, I was worried the time-skips were dull or whatever but I'm pleased it worked. You're interpreting it perfectly! Thank you for your review!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Definitely understandable how he did, yes. And one day perhaps she will be! Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _It scared me to write! Yeah, his fainting really is out of control - and you make a good point that he'll end up hurting himself one day... or perhaps this day... hmmm, we'll see…. Wink wink. And definitely, he shouldn't have lost his temper. Luckily, Mollie went after Lucinda and succeeded where Ethan didn't. And it is good that Connie's taken him off nights, even though he hates it! His weight is awfully low, definitely, but it only gets worse. Thank you for your review!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **25th of May 2017 (1 month and 15 days later)**

There has to be nothing more irritating than _slightly_ too loose trousers.

It's bittersweet - this gives proof that Ethan has dropped weight, but it means that the majority of his clothes are much too big. Ethan, desperately doing his best to appreciate the better things in life, appreciates the sweeter side and disregards the bitter.

In a month and a half, roughly, not much has changed. Only the number on the scale. Ethan's energy is going down, as ever, but he has enough gathered to go for a run today. Fortunately, both Cal and Mollie are at work, meaning that no suspicion will occur. Perfect.

After skipping breakfast, Ethan heads out. It's actually his first run in months. Of course, it won't help his spinning head, but it'll be fine. It will.

Today, he's had a cup of green tea. Usually, he has black coffee but green is renowned for weight loss. It's enough to keep him going. The pricking of hunger pains in his stomach will stop eventually - and if not, he'll relieve them with a cracker or something, for lunch or tea. Just to stay conscious at least.

Down the narrow of the street is where he runs - the same route as he's taken in the past. It's safe. Nobody he knows lives down there.

He's shattered almost as quickly as he's begun. His legs have a dreadful ache from the inside out, and his throat battles the cold it engulfs in heaving breaths. He needs relief, he does, but he can't allow himself it. More needs to be done before he deserves a break, or he'll hate himself later.

A road is in sight. He continues running with weak strides toward it. The glaring light of the morning finds its way into his eyes as he runs across the road.

Somehow, it doesn't cross his mind to check left and right. It isn't the main road, it's not busy. He'll be fine, he figures, as he makes his way across it.

And that is his first mistake of the day.

A deafening noise pierces his ears - a horn. Subsequently, a brutal impact of a hard blow hits into his left side. He's knocked straight to the ground, in the very middle of the road.

Traffic comes to an immediate standstill.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Lily slides the notes back into the pocket by her patient's bed. "Back soon."

"Alright, Doctor."

She gives her patient a nod before leaving the cubicle. Sighing, she folds her arms over her chest as she walks to the almost empty nurse's station.

There is a blissful almost-silence in the air - which is always unexpected on the golden occasion it occurs, considering she works in an emergency department. The serenity seems to be in everyone. Cal is standing by Mollie - his latest girlfriend, who has lasted for far longer than Lily had anticipated - and seems to be appreciating this greatly.

Lily wishes she could too. Truly. As much as she relishes the hustle and bustle of the busy department, it's always fantastic to have a break. And she's always been the appreciative sort, who focuses on the good rather than the bad.

Today, she can't. Right now? She can't get her mind of Ethan. He's dramatically slimmed down in the last months and nobody else seems to have noticed - not to mention his extremely questioning behavior, especially at Charlie and Duffy's wedding and prior. They may not be perfect friends presently, but she can't switch of the button in her mind where her care for him is.

Though, honestly, maybe she's only noticing his shrinking frame because she's looking for it. Perhaps her staring at him, trying to detect if he's lost weight on his face or if he's just tired, is unnecessary. Though, either way, it doesn't matter, really. There's nothing she can do about it. They're not close anymore. End of.

But she _can_ , technically. Lily rests her elbows on the nurse's station unit, eyeing Cal and Mollie up. All she has to do is talk to Cal about it, who will in turn ask Ethan and get some answers.

So why doesn't she do it?

"Everything alright, Lily?"

Her heart leaps. Cal must've noticed her incessant gaze on him, as he's looking at her now. As is Mollie.

Lily fakes a carefree expression, and without thinking, nods her head. "Everything is just fine, Dr Knight. Thank you for asking."

She could've said something, but she didn't. She supposes as she's walking off - what's the point of worrying Cal about his brother when nothing could be wrong, anyway?

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Is he alive?

Ethan wrenches open his eyes and looks around him. Brightness floods in. His shaking fingers check his pulse, which is beating quickly. The irony of moving and breathing and thinking he's dead eludes him.

But yeah - he's alive.

Unconsciousness hasn't greeted him at any point. Only a strong ache of pain. In some ways, he's grateful - unconsciousness is bad news - but the pain is so horrendous that he longs for sleep. A couple seconds pass and the ache begins to die down.

His stomach drops as the light becomes less bright and he can see about him. Shit. He's in the road.

Copper is in his mouth and there's a pounding in his chest. But, somehow, the worst thing is the embarrassment. He should've checked! Traffic has stopped and so have pedestrians, staring at him. It's humiliating, but he has nobody to blame but himself.

"Oh my God, are you okay?"

Ethan manages to look through the haze of mortified tears to see a face staring back at him. A lady, perhaps only just in her forties, is the owner of that face - which is filled with concern and guilt. She hunches over him, the car that she'd just emerged from parked with the door left open.

"I'm...I'm fine..." Ethan says, with a vigorous nod. His tears of pain are drying up, and he does his best to play it off. "It's alright,"

Her face is still plagued with guilt. "I don't think you are. I am _so_ sorry. I'm going to call an ambulance, darlin', your mouth is bleeding."

Ethan's heart immediately jumps and he stops her. "No, no, don't!" He realizes that the coppery taste in his mouth is blood - he's cut his lip - but it's not a worry. He's far more concerned about Jez or Iain cropping up in the ambulance she wants to call. How on earth would he explain what happened? "No, I'm sorry, I just meant... There's no need."

"Are you sure?" She questions. Tentatively, she hands him a tissue from her pocket.

He uses it to mop up the blood, 'mop' being the operative word. "Completely, it's fine."

"Well... oh, dear, your glasses have broken," she picks them up and hands them to him gently. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't stop my car. it was completely my fault, I'm really-"

Ethan gets up, unsteady on his feet. "No, it was my fault - honestly." The impatient beeping from cars around is starting. "I hope I haven't ruined your morning."

"Likewise, darling," she helps him up and then proceeds to tut. "You're a bit wobbly, aren't you? No wonder, seeing as I just bulldozed you off the road... look, go home. Have a drink and something to eat. Oh, and make sure you're not alone if you're not going to a hospital. You don't want to risk it."

"I will, thanks," Ethan says almost immediately, lying through his teeth. "My...my brother's a doctor. He'll keep an eye on me, I'm sure, and I wasn't even knocked out." _As if I'm going to tell him what happened._

"Alright, that's good," she nods, smiling kindly at him. "As long as you do. Take care, dear."

With one last smile, she turns and quickly got back into her car, letting Ethan step out of the road (cautious not to hit him for a _second_ time) before continuing her journey down the street. Some drivers of other cars glared at him nastily through their windows, irritated by the delay, but not stopping to check if he was alright or anything. There was no surprise there. To a stranger, he understandably means nothing.

The scene comes to a stop, now uninteresting. People have no time, resuming their travels to work or elsewhere. Ethan walks away from the road, out of sight down a small street corner, and regains his breath. The woman had a point - he really ought to get some rest, now.

Any normal - and sensible and self-caring - person would walk the way back to their flat, keeping their head down from wandering eyes from nosy neighbours, and have a lay down after calling someone to take care of them.

Ethan, being his new self, doesn't. Instead, he continues his run, only stopping to wipe the blood from his face.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Do you really think she's okay?"

Cal looks up from his paperwork. Lazily, he holds his pen in his hand and rests his elbow on the desk. "Who, sorry?"

"Lily," Mollie says, as if it's obvious. She lowers her voice. "Acting a little odd, isn't she?"

Cal snorts. "Well, it's Lily. She's always a little odd. I forget that you've not been here long. She's just… like that."

"Oh. Seemed like something was up."

"Well, if anything is then I'm sure we'll hear about it soon enough, via the grapevine," Cal says. He closes his set of notes. "Coffee?"

Mollie looks back to where she saw Lily disappear to, still hesitant. She sighs. It's not her place to ask Lily anything - they aren't even on first name terms. But she can't stop her concern.

"Uh, Mollie?"

"Yeah, I'm listening," Mollie says. She turns her attention to him, and quickly smiles at her boyfriend. "Sounds great. Let's grab one then, handsome."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

From the second Ethan steps through the door, he's been bombarded with paperwork. Lack of patients? Time to break out the biros and printer paper, apparently.

Fantastic. The one day his glasses are broken are the one day he truly needs them!

"Doctor Hardy," Dylan approaches him with a stack of paperwork in his arms. Almost theatrically, he gives Ethan's appearance a double take. "What on _earth_ happened to _you_?"

Ethan immediately begins thinking up an excuse for his forming bruises, cracked glasses, cut bottom lip and grazed elbows. Somehow, he doesn't think he can use the infamous _'I walked into a cupboard door'_ excuse. "Uh. You see, Dylan, it's actually a really funny story."

"Oh, the moment I hear that, the moment I stop caring," Dylan says drily. Ethan mentally rejoices. He knew that'd shut Dylan up. "Right, paperwork. Fill it in and give it to Mrs Beauchamp. Do you think you can handle that?"

Ethan looks at Dylan apprehensively. "Fill it in with what?"

"Pen, I'd imagine. Don't start using your own blood as ink or anything, though I imagine the tap coming from your lip would suffice greatly."

Dylan's humour is rather difficult to grasp. Ethan quickly wipes his lip, looks down at the paperwork, and then back up at Dylan. "I meant-"

"Oh, I don't have time. On second thoughts, just head upstairs and drop it into Ric Griffin's office," Dylan says. "I honestly can't be bothered to do it myself _or_ explain the process to you."

Appreciative of Dylan's brutal honesty, - he's sick of liars - Ethan nods. "I'll get on it."

"Don't be long."

Ethan offers a stretched smile before turning on his heel as they depart. Dutifully, he walks off with the paperwork through to reception from the hallway they'd been stood in. He can barely see over the top of it.

To no shock, the lift is broken. It's hardly an issue. The stairs never break. Where the lift fails, the stairs thrive, offering a miniature workout, which Ethan approves of. Greatly, actually.

He's on the first step of the stairs as his name is called. "What, Caleb?" His usual moodiness is starting again, after an absence of it this morning. The novelty of the stomach-filling tea he'd had has worn off.

Cal doesn't care, nor does he specifically notice either. He seems more interested in his coffee in a polystyrene cup. "You going to join us for - hey, what happened to your face?

"No idea, I was just born like this," Ethan says. He knows just what Cal means, but at the same time, he knows all too well that he can't tell him. "Cal, it's fine, I just… fell out of bed."

"Well, what about your glass-"

"What were you going to ask?" Ethan says, impatient.

Cal looks hesitant for a second, almost apprehensive. Luckily, it doesn't last. "Right. I was just asking if you were going to join us for lunch later, that's all."

Oh, the familiar panic. It settles in the pit of his stomach. "It's almost lunch already? I-I thought it was only nine."

"It's, uh, half past eleven," Cal says with a roll of his eyes and a sip of his coffee. He turns back to Mollie, who laughs - but not unkindly. "Anyway. Will you?"

Ethan shrugs carelessly, as if the question isn't tearing him up inside. "Possibly. I'll think about it."

"Don't think too hard, might hurt yourself."

"Quit stealing my one-liners," Ethan says, his tone dry. He makes his way up the stairs. "Anyway, bye."

"Alright then," Cal says, smiling. "See you in a bit."

Ethan just gives him a nod and walks up the stairs, paperwork in hand. There are calories that need to be burnt.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

After he's finished the task at hand, he takes his sweet time walking all the way back. He gets lost numerous times - it's _almost_ like he's doing it _deliberately_ to get out of something.

Ethan's mind buzzes with lies to avoid lunch. One is that he has papers to finish, so having lunch so early would be a hindrance on his stretched time schedule. Another is that he has some mystery ailment; perhaps a make-believe hangover or a headache will keep them off his back. That'd be perfect.

He makes it to the stairs. Still thinking over each and every possible lie, he walks down them, two steps at a time. His usual caution isn't as pronounced as it tends to be.

About an eighth of the way down. Ethan's heart begins to pump faster. He can see Cal by reception, alongside Mollie - who is pretty much his shadow at this point - and knows his time is running out.

Ethan takes another step. His thoughts stop as his body suddenly weakens, and his head spin. Panic strikes him hard, as his hands go clammy. He stops.

 _No, no. It's okay. Just keep walking. Then you can grab a coffee and be rid of this lightheadedness. It'll be alright._

The voice makes an awful lot of sense. He takes another step.

And then his whole body packs in and gives up on him.

 _Balls._

His legs buckle, his head spins as if he's on a fairground ride and then his arms fling out. Unable to get any support, he begins to fall - right down the long case of stairs.

The reception silences. A couple people cry out, but nobody can do anything. Nobody can help.

All Ethan can hear is his own quiet cries of pain as he falls. He hits all the parts of him he never knew existed - and _hard -_ as he falls. This, he thinks, is by far his most painful mistake of today.

Fall. Bang. Pain. Haze of tears. More pain. Another bang, another hit. Blinding. No full sentences come to mind. Too much pain. He sees stars, he sees flickers of blackness, he sees nothing, and then he sees everything in an indescribable amount of blurriness.

What follows is a strong avalanche of mismatched pain, flooding his entire body. The thin air passes him quickly as he tumbles.

Finally, he hits the very bottom - just when he'd reached peak dizziness.

Relief. It lasts a precious few seconds, as noise begins to fill his ears. It sounds like people panicking, running, asking questions and shouting. And then more agony fills him and he can't hear anymore. Oh, more and more pain. Heaps. Ethan would cry, but all he can do is lay in a heap.

Blurs of colours dance around in his vision, the jagged pieces from his smashed glasses rest on the floor by him and blood fills his mouth. Now his consciousness is drifting away.

The very last thing he hears, right before his eyes close, is the desperate sound of his brother shouting his name.


	18. 17: Ugly Truth

**Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Ah I'm happy you like that line! I like to use it myself sometimes haha. Definitely, poor Ethan. Yes, people are starting to notice things, especially those two. And let's hope he does sooner rather than later. Thank you for your review!_

 **Casslourocks:** _Your sweet praise made me smile! Writing the fall down the stairs was surprisingly difficult. Everything is happening at once, and I genuinely re-wrote it over five or more times. Here's the next update. Thank you for your review!_

 **(Guest) Heggyy:** _Sorry that this update wasn't exactly 'soon', but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless. Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _So happy that you feel it was written well! As I said before, I struggled big time with that scene. Oooh, back at it again with the predictions which are... well, you'll see! I suppose I'm a bit predictable sometimes hehe! And let's hope everything's alright. Aw! Hope you enjoy this one then! Thank you for your review!_

 **A/N:** _I hope to update this more frequently as I love writing it, but my laptop just had to go and break! Currently borrowing one. How annoying. But I'll try not to keep leaving you on cliffhangers for a couple weeks straight! Things should start advancing far more faster soon, drama central and all that. Anyway, ignore me being boring - here's the update!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **25th of May 2017 (Same day)**

Time is meant to go by quickly in the face of emergencies. It's meant to rush past - you're meant to be breathless, feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the sweat sticking to your back. That's what it's meant to be like.

But nothing is going fast enough for Cal. Nobody is helping. Nobody even breathes.

He's the first to move - the first to react. And he is quick to arrive at Ethan's side. He slides ungracefully to his knees, placing his hands on Ethan as if his trembling fingertips have magical healing abilities. There's silence, only the noise of his beating heart in his ears. He'd heard Ethan's cries as he'd fallen. But there's nothing now. He's silent, and now Cal's heart hurts.

He'd have prefered Ethan panicking, or him crying, or moaning about the pain. Anything. Absolutely anything as opposed to the sound of Ethan's raspy breaths. And everyone else still just gasps, their mouths dropped open and eyes wide as they stare at the bottom of the stairs. Nobody does _anything_.

Cal snaps his head round to everyone else. He's scared, and his brain translates that to fury. "Trolley, _now_!"

Mollie is the first to rush off to get one. Others follow suit. The rest just... stare.

Bastards.

Cal's gaze drops from those stairs to Ethan's face. He can't remove his eyes. Ethan's face is pale, which only makes the blood from his nose and lip even more startlingly red against his skin. The - and where they're from is a mystery - pre-existing injuries look far worse now. His eyes are clamped closed, his forehead creased, and his face contorted with pain even in unconsciousness. His blue scrubs are most likely covering more bruises. Little shallow breaths come, his chest heaving unevenly. Cal lifts Ethan's hand, putting his fingers to Ethan's wrist to detect a pulse. There's one. Thank God.

"Dr Knight, is he breathing?"

That's Connie. "Yeah, yeah," Cal says, looking briefly at her. She kneels beside him, her bare knees on the stone cold floor which her black skirt tickles as she presses a stethoscope to Ethan's chest. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, I don't like the sound of his breaths," Connie says, using her hand to clear her loose hair from her face. She sounds strong: unworried; unflappable; confident. "Right. Straight to Resus."

Cal - despite everyone's attempts to remove him from the area - tries to help. He's not energised, because adrenaline seems to only last for a couple seconds. Neither does he own the strength to move mountains. His hands are shaky, his breaths feel snatched and the air is thick.

"Dr Knight, please," Connie says, doing her best to push him away. "You're smothering him. We need to get to Resus - now move."

Cal does. Any guidance is appreciated. He chooses to not hear Charlie calling him away and hurries after them into Resus.

Well, they're really moving quickly now. It's fortunate, but Cal can't keep up. He stands in the middle of Resus, staring at the trolley and his colleagues. They have a certain level of detachment on their faces, pretending to be entirely unaffected, but it's so forced. So, so, _so_ forced.

Mollie rushes in. She reaches Cal's side immediately, and holds him back from running to Ethan. "Hey, hey, don't. You're no use to him like this. Come on, let's get a coffee."

"I don't want a bloody coffee, just-"

"Cal," she places her hands either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "Listen, okay? They know what they're doing. Ethan will be fine, I promise you. From what you've told me, your brother is… well, stupidly resilient. Let's go sit."

Cal wants to argue, but he has no energy left. Adrenaline is exhausting. His body feels heavy, his limbs ache and his head feels like it's going to snap off and roll onto the floor like a bowling ball. All he wants to do is go to Ethan's side.

But he knows Mollie is right. He knows, and he trusts her. Trusting women (or anyone, really) historically ends badly, but Mollie is different. She cares about Ethan like Cal does - just not as much, because that's impossible.

Mollie strokes his back and continues to reassure. "He's unconscious, Cal. He's not in any pain. They'll dose him up on painkillers, and before you know it, he'll be all patched up and you'll be back to arguing at home over salt again!"

Cal somehow manages a short laugh. It sounds wrong to his own ears. Then his laugh turns into a beginning of a sob and he realizes he needs to get out of here.

"Let's go, honey," Mollie says. She takes his arm, and begins to guide him out. "Everything will be okay. I promise you."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Currently, there's not a lot he can hear.

It's mainly talking. Just people saying what they need, making orders, various voices occasionally going high-pitched in a very worried sort of way. It's soothing, occasionally.

He can hear someone murmuring comforts to him. Is it Cal? No, it can't be. Too feminine sounding. His stomach drops in disappointment. It's Lily instead. A weight presses down on his arm - it feels like a hand - and strokes him softly. Yeah, it's definitely a hand.

"He's regaining consciousness."

Finally, somebody notices. Ethan manages to open his eyes, but all he sees are blindingly white lights. They're giving him a headache. He shuts his eyes, which are beginning to go wet with tears.

"Don't cry," Lily says. It's more of an order than a comforting phrase. He can't see her, but he can feel her hand on his shoulder.

He's too weak to tell her that it's the lights making him cry. It's too much to try to open his mouth right now. When he tries, she only shushes him.

"You'll be okay."

That sounds softer. Pitying, but soothing. Ethan wonders what he ever did right to deserve Lily as a friend. She seems to have forgotten every single argument. He wishes to say thank you, to give some sort of appreciative look, but every movement and thought is tinged with a slight pain.

"Right," that's Dylan. When did he get in here? "He'll live. Minor injuries, but scans will tell us more. Lucky."

"He fell down a flight of stairs."

"And didn't break his back," Dylan replies. "As I said, Dr Chao - _lucky_."

There's a sharp tut. For a good minute, there's just the usual background of the department as Ethan lays. It's awfully boring. Extremely. He's always the doctor, never the patient. There's something so dull about just laying.

Ethan decides that he's never falling down stairs again. Never. It's wearisome.

Slowly, he's beginning to get tired. The pain is wearing him out. It seems to happen quite often - have an accident, pass out, wake up in the middle of Resus, and then fall asleep til they've finished. With patients, that is. A lot of them do that and it's usually his job to calm them.

Ethan's eyes are already closed, but he doesn't bother with trying to listen. He wants to sleep now. He feels someone lift the cover on top of him, and a rush of cold air hits his bare flesh. Ethan's almost half-asleep.

And then there's a loud gasp as they reveal at his chest.

Ethan blocks out sounds of them conversing - feeling far too exhausted - and falls asleep. He doesn't want to listen to them talking. There's been too _much_ talking. Sleep is calling, and he lets it overcome him.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Seventy-four minutes and a seemingly a million scans later, Cal hears the words he's been waiting for.

"You can see him now."

He is elated by the simple sentence, nodding gratefully at Dylan and Connie as they exit the staff-room he'd been held prisoner in. Mollie just smiles when Cal asks if she wants to come too.

"You see him," Mollie says, sitting onto the sofa a little more comfortably. "I'll give you both a couple minutes or so."

Cal just nods, not wanting to wait, and hurries off. People seem to be staring at him. He doesn't bother to give any look back. They don't matter. Not right now, because he's on his way to see his _brother_ , who he's been thinking about non-stop.

Cal wants to tell him everything. He wants to speak enough words to fill a hollow mountain, to tell him every feeling, to describe every pain, and that every five _minutes_ he was holding back tears. All he wants to do is spurt truths which have been kept inside for _decades_. To tell Ethan how much he loves him and how much it _hurts_ to have witnessed him falling, to have seen him hooked up to the monitors, and how it _ached_ to stroke his bloodstained hair back when his forehead felt so deathly cold. That's what he wants to do.

He wants to tell Ethan he loves him, and all the reasons why.

Cal takes a breath in as he enters the cubicle.

"You're a fucking _idiot_ , you are."

And somehow, despite his - melodramatic, really - thoughts, that's the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

Ethan smiles at Cal's profanity and insult. He's still in his scrubs, looking drowsy as he is sat half-up in bed. "I know."

"What were you playing at, tripping down those stairs?"

"It wasn't deliberate," Ethan says, as if there was a possibility that he'd have fallen down the stairs for fun or something. Cal proceeds to roll his eyes.

"I'd really hope not."

Cal sits by his brother's bed, now feeling stupid. Ethan is okay, he knows this now. Just a little battered, obviously, but he'll live. Cal can't help but feel ridiculous over how sentimental and emotional he was earlier. Not that he'd ever admit to Ethan that he only just bit back tears during the entire - and rather short lived - ordeal, of course. Never would he admit _that_.

Ethan breaks the comfortable silence between them. "Cal?"

Weirdly, Cal's heart skips a beat. "What? What is it?"

"Could you pass me that water, please?"

And normality is restored. No large declaration of love or adoration. Not even a hug. That is evidently _not_ their style. And Cal is okay with that.

Cal does as Ethan asks, helping him to sit up straighter. He softly puts his hand on Ethan's shoulder, but even that feels unnatural so he removes it. Ethan refuses Cal's well-meaning help, insisting that he can drink from a glass unaided. Cal watches. Being the independent and stubborn person he is, Ethan manages it - but not without his entire face contorting with pain. Sitting up looked to be a struggle.

"Just to let you know, Eth, Connie will be in soon."

Ethan gives Cal a look of dismay. He passes the cup back, badly hiding his wincing that the movement caused. "Why?"

"Don't look like that," Cal says. He takes a sip from Ethan's water. "She's just going to be telling you about your injuries, the painkillers she'll be prescribing and how long she'll give you off of work. Standard stuff. She's not going to be telling you off if that's what you're worried about."

Ethan sits up a bit straighter. He looks down, fiddling with the dull white NHS bedsheet. "I was slightly concerned about that."

"Don't be," Cal says, as if that'll fix it all. "I think she's a bit fond of you anyway."

"When has she ever shown any signs of fondness towards me?"

Cal shrugs. "Alright, alright. But, you know, Lily is thawing now. I reckon you could be in with a chance, you know. Way she was looking at you."

Ethan visibly restrains the urge to sigh. But he does mutter something about why do people insist on making every friendship into a relationship, which Cal is about to reply to before the cubicle curtain is dragged open. Both turn, and see Lily standing by the opening, uncharacteristically shy looking and anxious. Speak of the devil.

"Cal?" Lily's voice is soft. She gives Ethan a look - nothing stone cold, as it used to be, but more pitying. Ethan doesn't like it now. He doesn't want her pity.

"What's up?"

"I'd like to speak with you, please."

Cal nods carelessly. "Yeah, yeah, sure," he says, turning to Ethan. He raises his eyebrows. "You'll be alright on your own?"

"I'm sure I will," Ethan says with a healthy touch of sarcasm.

Falling down the stairs may have weakened and hurt Cal's little brother, but he's more 'Ethan' than ever. And that's heartwarming. Cal's worries fade.

Cal smiles, looks at Ethan for a few more seconds - as if he doesn't quite want to leave him - and then begrudgingly follows Lily out.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Lily knows her fear is visible on her face. It's obvious. Cal will notice, so she doesn't face him as they walk to Connie's office.

It had eaten her up inside before. Nothing added up. Ethan's behavior is worrying because it's unusual. He's been like this since the beginning of this year. She knows him. The Ethan she knows would never deliver blackmail or empty threats to keep anything secret, or so _obviously_ lie.

Whatever is going on could be a phase. Something that he can stop quickly. To just… snap out of it.

God, she prays for that. Because the alternative is scary, even to her.

Lily knocks on Connie's office door. Cal looks at her, confused. "Why are we going into Connie's office? I thought you just wanted to talk to me-"

"She wants to see us both," Lily says. Cal starts to mutter something under his breath, sighing uninterestedly, until Lily adds: "It's about Ethan."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Nobody is _saying_ anything.

Why the silence? Why call two of your doctors to your office to just have them sit there? Cal's so anxious that he can physically feel his stomach twisting, the sickness of nervousness and the shaking of his body.

"What is it?" Cal blurts out, very suddenly. "Why do you both look so… well, so…"

Connie looks him in the eyes, and he stops talking. He doesn't know the word he was looking for anyway. "I saw something very concerning when I was examining Dr Hardy after the accident earlier, as did Dylan. Dr Hardy-"

"Ethan," Cal corrects. He doesn't understand why he corrected her. Oh, he doesn't understand anything. _Enlighten me, please - ignorance is far from bliss._

"Alright. Ethan, then," Connie says. She does one of those infamous frowns paired with a sigh. "I'm going to cut to the chase."

"Please do."

"Right. Do you know if Ethan has willingly lost weight?"

Cal freezes. He'd already been pretty still to begin with, forgetting his incessant shaking, but that completely froze him.

And just like that, he feels like a little boy again.

"Why?" Cal demands. "Why? He hasn't lost weight?"

"I wouldn't be asking if he hadn't."

"Well…" Cal takes in a trembly breath. "He hasn't, I didn't think he hadn't. I… he's still healthy?"

Connie sits back in her chair. "Obviously, he hasn't been weighed. But his ribcage is quite visible, which was a bit harrowing to see. Do you know-"

"His weight? N-no, I don't know."

"Right," Connie doesn't seem upset that he interrupted. Clearly, her priorities are in order. "I'm just concerned. If he has lost weight - and quite a bit that I can tell, his clothes are hanging off of him - then I need to know if it's deliberate or not."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, if it's undeliberate, he might have a medical problem. Diabetes, Crohn's disease, the list is long." Connie sits up straighter. Cal fidgets as she continues. "And if it's deliberate, he needs to stop losing it. I don't understand why it would be intentional, so I'm leaning toward a medical problem. But, saying that, Dr Chao did-"

"Okay, okay, yeah, yeah," Cal finds himself nodding. It's so over the top that he can see Lily staring at him from the chair beside him. "Alright. Okay. Fine. Well, run tests. I'll help. He wouldn't lose weight purposely."

He's about to get up, feeling an insatiable urge to just _move_ when Connie orders him to sit back down. "Dr Knight, there's something else."

Cal falls back into his chair. He jogs his leg. "What?"

"Dr Chao, please tell him what you told me," Connie says, her voice sounding encouraging. "It's better coming from the horse's mouth."

 _As long as it comes quickly, I'm in bloody agony here. What the hell is going on with my brother?_ "Lily, spit it out."

Lily looks at Cal, her hands clasped together so tightly that they're turning white. "I… okay, I…"

"Lily!"

"I'm about to!" Lily defends. she takes a shaky breath in. "Ethan's not himself. I'm actually shocked you haven't noticed. I don't know exactly what's up, but something… well, I've got a thought."

Cal stands up. "Are you calling me a bad brother or something?"

"No, no," Lily shakes her head. "I'm not. I just think he's been down recently."

"He was fine when I was speaking to him earlier," Cal says, frowning at her.

"Because he's dosed on painkillers probably, yeah!" Lily says. She closes her eyes, inhales deeply, and continues. "Look, let's stop beating about the bush. I know about your parents - you told me once when you were drunk - and about how they were both ill? Well… because they starved themselves. A permanent 'diet', and-"

He cuts her off. His face has gone pale, quite theatrically. "How is this relevant, Lily?"

"It's… it's relevant, _Cal_ , because that's what Ethan's doing."

If you could hear the sound of someone's heart cracking, it'd be audible today. But instead, Cal's face displays it - and he knows it does. His eyes go glossy and his bottom lip shakes. Stubbornly, he keeps a firm face. Or tries to, anyway. Oh, one of the worst things about being hurt is others _knowing_ that you are. And both ladies in the room know.

Cal takes in a trembly breath. "No. He's _not_. My brother is not like them, and he never will be," Cal says. His voice sounds loud, shaky, and hurts his own ears. His heart is pumping so fast. Today, his body is working overtime. "Lily, you're lying. He's fine. The weight-loss is accidental or because of a medical illness. He's not like that! He's not like my parents!"

Lily's voice goes quiet. She hates the unfolding scene. "Caleb, you're in denial even more than he is. Something is obviously up."

Connie interrupts. "Lily, I understand you're concerned. But to pin some eating disorder-" Cal flinches. "-on Ethan with little to no evidence… well, he could just be dieting or have a bad relationship with food. Or it's medical! We don't know."

Lily looks down. "I have evidence."

"What's that, then?" Cal says loudly. His voice seems to rise in volume when he gets scared.

Lily swallows and looks at her lap. Never has she been so… bloody nervous. Her train of thought today is now rollercoaster of confidence with bumps of the feeling of anxiety along the way. Her entire self is out of character. Lily Chao is not anxious, she is not scared. She is confident. She is-

"Lily!"

"He's starving himself, okay!" Lily shouts suddenly. Time seems to stop. "A-And he blackmailed me into keeping it a secret. And he lied when I caught him making himself throw up. That's _my_ evidence that something is _seriously_ wrong."

After she speaks, there is a silence that comes after - and it is nothing but mind-numbing.


	19. 18: Unreality Unfolds

**Casslourocks:** _He does know now! Yes, whether or not he believes her is a different story, really. I'm so happy that's the case! Characterization is something I spend a lot of time agonizing over so I'm really happy it's right. You've got Lily spot on, yes. And don't worry about it at all! Hopefully life has gotten a bit less hectic for you now. Aw, I'm blushing now! Thank you for your review!_

 **SiriuslyPctter:** _Your reviews literally always make me laugh. Shit really is hitting the fan, yep! Yes I know it takes a lot to impress you haha I'm so happy you liked it! Ah same. Thank you for the compliments, in your own weird funny way, and thank you for the review!_

 **Guest:** _Yes finally, he can! But will he accept it, that's the issue. Thank you for the review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Dude you know I love cliffhangers! Oh, Cal's denial is tricky. And I couldn't hurt Ethan too much, even after his horrendous fall down the stairs. But yes, you're right. Mentally and emotionally, he's struggling. He's dosed up on a lot of painkillers but they'll wear off and the positive affects will too. I like that YOU liked the 'seventy-four minutes' thing! Aw thank you so much! Here's the next one. Thank you for your review (and I do the exact same when you update haha)!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Yes, poor brothers... and yeah, it's good he did! Thank you for your review!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **Warning:** _This is a potentially distressing chapter. It's very graphic towards the end - which it won't be in the future - so please, stay safe. Triggers are at the bottom of the prologue (technically the first chapter). I am not glamorizing what Ethan does or saying that it'll make anyone feel better if they're in pain. It'll actually do the opposite. Take care and read this chapter with caution, if at all._

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 **25th of May 2017 (Same day)**

Ethan's painkillers are starting to wear off. It's a shame, really. They'd been doing wonders for him. It felt like he could actually smile without a huge amount of effort.

He could _really_ use a dose of them right about now.

Cal had entered the cubicle in a state. His eyes were streaming with tears and his nose was running. As he sobs to Ethan, the words just go over his head. Sentences like ' _you were lying to me_ ', and ' _I don't want you to die_ ', and ' _please fucking talk to me_ ' were spoken with no response.

Stupid. So _fucking_ stupid. He just had to get injured, he just had to. They'd had to cut through his clothing, obviously, and people had seen him. It's so obvious now. Truths had escaped.

So now he must too.

Ethan doesn't know what to say so he doesn't say anything. He just sits and stares, not listening either. No fighting back. Why should he? Anything he says will be put down as a lie. _Everything_ and anything. No point speaking to Cal. His mind as been poisoned with talk of eating disorders and mental illness, of which Ethan doesn't have. He doesn't.

 _Don't think about it too much. Escape. Escape. Escape._

Yes. He's going to do a Caleb Knight speciality. He's going to run. Because any longer living in this shit existence, getting through another day, listening to everyone, and he's going to kill himself. He will. Because what's the point of continuing his life if others are going to control it when they find out?

 _And I don't even care that my mind has gotten so dark._

Lily enters. She looks guilty. Ethan wonders why for a second, before realising that she'd probably made this all happen. She'd dropped the bomb of truth and now he had to deal with the aftermath.

 _I hate you._

Connie walks in, Mollie too, the latter who tries to quieten Cal who is all over the place. Ethan doesn't ever think he's seen Cal cry so much.

As people have entered, Ethan tries to leave the cubicle. He gets up from the bed and feels his weak legs disagreeing with the movement but doesn't allow them any respite. Trying to walk is challenging.

Lily tells him to sit, that he still needs time to recover from the fall.

"Don't you dare try to tell me what to do!" Ethan snaps. It's the first thing he says and it's said with spite. "How can you even stand yourself, after what you've done?"

The words sound spat out. It doesn't sound like him. He sounds unrecognizable.

 _Because I am unrecognizable._

Connie steps in, her voice loud over the sound of Cal's helpless crying. "Right, that's _enough_."

Lily looks at Ethan, hurt and ignoring Connie's effort to calm the situation. "I'm trying to help you!" Her expression is clouded by guilt but anger is added. Perhaps she'd been expecting him to bend down and kiss her fucking _feet_ or something, but no. He hates what he _knows_ she's done.

"You promised, Lily, you promised," Ethan says, putting unnecessary emphasis on every single word and clenching his fists. "Why'd you break that? That's not what friends do!"

"Yes, it is. I'm doing what's best for you, you're just unable to see that. I swear, I honestly swear, that I'm not doing this to hurt you, Ethan."

"Save your excuses," Ethan spits out. He gets up, immediately feeling his head spin. He won't stay bedridden under their rules. "Let me through."

Lily gives him a look of challenge. "No."

"Lily, move. I'm being serious."

"Make me."

Ethan pushes past her, every footstep echoing in his ears and his mind reminding him how weak his body feels. Lily doesn't follow. But Cal does. Connie is telling people to get back to work, to quit staring as Cal forces Ethan to turn back, sobbing. It's a rough shove and Ethan almost falls.

Cal is still in tears. It all feels very surreal. Cal never cries. Never. "Where the hell are you going?"

" _Anywhere_ away from this place."

"You can't! Look, I just want to know the truth, Ethan!" Cal demands heartbrokenly. His face is streaked with tears and his mouth is shaky, his voice hoarse from the sobbing and weeping and crying and _demanding_.

Ethan is going to leave. He's got to. People will find out, and what then? They'll section him? Feed him up, make him fat? Fill his mind full of lies?

No. He won't get under their control. He can't.

They end up outside. Ambulances pass by, cars park themselves and people pass. Life goes on but it feels like it's stopped. Because it has, or it will do anyway. Rain is falling from the sky and dampening his clothes, sticking them to his weak body. He doesn't think he's ever seen it rain as much as it is today, wet drops falling from the sky and streaking his face.

"Hey! Just stop, please, talk to me."

He is forced to turn to Cal, who still has tears running down his face. "Let me go, Cal!"

"You know I can't," Cal says, his voice barely a whisper. He stands alone, trying to get close to Ethan but failing as the younger backs away. "I won't let you go."

"You have to."

"No!" Cal shouts. "No. I don't even have a reason! At least tell me that. Be decent enough to tell me what's going on. Come on," Cal takes in a shuddering breath. "Tell me Lily is wrong."

 _You deserve to know. I'm going to leave - forever - so what's the harm?_

 _And this will make him hate me, too. Because I promised I wouldn't get like this. Turn his sadness into anger. It'll be easier for him. It will._

Ethan takes in a big breath and stands tall.

"I've stopped eating, Caleb."

The words had never been spoken out loud. Never. They sound foreign to Ethan's ears. The reaction makes everything feel so unreal. So fake. So this-can't-be-happening-it's-a-nightmare. Oh God say it's a nightmare.

Cal's face crumbles. "No, no, no, not again, no…"

Every bone in his body is telling Ethan to stop. To wrap his arms around Cal, to burst into tears and to promise he'll stop, that he's actually okay and that he's sorry, he's so _so_ sorry.

Obviously he does not.

Ethan's voice is a hiss. _Make him hate me, make him hate me._ "I'll be weightless, Cal." The wind rushes around them and the atmosphere seems to just get continuously colder. "I will be. I'm not stopping, ever, until I don't weigh a thing. How close can I come to _death_?"

Cal's sobs get louder. The sounds of ambulances, cars, people, and life all seem to fade into nothingness. "Ethan, I-I love you, please… please!"

Ethan doesn't know what Cal is pleading for. For Ethan to turn around and say it's a lie? It's not. It's the truth and it's been staring Cal in the face for so long.

He's started. He isn't fucking stopping now. "I won't. You wanted to know, didn't you?"

"Oh, no…" Cal's voice trails off as he cries.

Mollie appears finally. Ethan had wondered when Cal's little shadow was going to show up again. Then Connie comes, again, and Lily, just like clockwork. Everything on repeat.

"You're not doing that to yourself, Ethan, y-you're fine, please, tell me you're lying…" Ethan isn't repeating it again. He won't. And he's not going to lie to Cal. He deserves to know.

Mollie intervenes. "Ethan, get inside!" Her voice shakes, the shouting sounding unsure. "It's cold and your brother is in tears. We're sorting this inside."

"No!" Ethan says, his voice cutting. "I'm not. Why should I listen to you?! I don't even know you, not really! I. Am. Fine. Leave me alone!"

 _I'm not fine. I can tell Cal because he won't get me hospitalized but you fucking will so stay away._

He feels pain as he looks at his brother - the only one who he's known all his life. The one with red eyes, a throat sore from crying and breaths heaving as he stands, lost when usually looking so collected and confident.

The brother who held his hand as a child. The one held Ethan decades ago, comforted him when he was bullied, kept shameful tears a secret between the two, promised not to tell when Ethan broke something by mistake, and took him to the shops. The one who taught Ethan to shave, drive, who kept him safe and protected. The one who looked after him, unconditionally.

The brother, the one precious brother, who Ethan is walking away from.

He turns and takes a few unsure steps, before continuing a confident stride in the opposite direction.

"Please!" Cal's voice cracks and breaks. It should be getting lost in the wind but Ethan can hear it loud and clearly. "Where are you _going_?"

Ethan walks. He can't answer, because he doesn't know his destination, but he doesn't stop. On and on, he walks, the wind roaring in his ears and his heart pumping in his chest.

"Nibbles!"

That use of his nickname hits him. It really does.

But he still doesn't stop.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's been hours but Cal still isn't okay.

Something makes Cal think that maybe he never will be. That he'll always be sore from the words Ethan had said so _carelessly_. Like he didn't care but he did at the same time.

 _I want my brother. I want my brother._

"Coffee. Milk, three sugars for the shock."

Cal holds out his hand and takes it. It's unlike Connie to play dinner ladies, even handing him a packaged sandwich (which he can't think of eating right now, still sick from knowing Ethan isn't). The cup feels hot in his hand so he puts it down. He stares at it.

Ethan makes great coffee. It can bring the expensive shop stuff to shame. Cal's eyes fill again.

 _I need my brother. I need my brother._

"I know you're upset, Cal," Connie says. She sits down on the squashy sofa in the relatives room, where they stay alone. "But I want to be honest with you. We must talk like adults."

Cal doesn't blink, scared of unlodging his tears. Carefully, he pretends to rub sleep from his eyes to get rid of the wetness showing weakness. "Okay," is all he can say.

"Alright. Cal, we know Ethan has some sort of problem to do with eating. And also that he's lost a drastic amount of weight by appearances."

Cal shivers. He hates that he has only just noticed all this and accepted this, just hours ago. Why did he never see it before? Is he really that shit of a brother?

"Under the mental health act, we-"

"No," Cal finds himself stony faced. No, no, no. There's no way he's letting this happen. "No, I don't think so. Nearest relatives can stop this. He's not being held under section. I won't let him."

Connie crosses her legs. She portrays someone who you'd think doesn't know the brothers. Unaffected. But she's still pale, still miserable. Her facade is strong but Cal knows her better from years of working alongside her. "He's putting himself in danger."

"We don't even know where he is, Connie!" Cal snaps. "Listen, as his nearest relative, I have legal rights to stop hospitalization, and if he is sectioned and I disagree then I have the ability to remove him from that situation. I'll have an assessment, put in an application to the County Court, and-"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Funny, as that's exactly what _you_ are doing," Cal says spitefully. Immediately, he regrets that little decision of his. He backtracks. "I'm sorry, I'm… I'm just tired," Cal says quietly.

Connie looks sympathetic, as if she's not only put herself in his shoes but as if she's walked a marathon in them. "I know you are."

Cal looks at the floor. He hates admitting weakness but here he is. "Listen, Connie. Please. Say… say I find him - alone. Talk to him. Bring him home, take an amount of time off of work for a family emergency and sort this myself. Make him eat again. The psychiatric team won't get involved. They won't help. I know my brother, they don't."

"Cal, listen, it might not be that easy. And-"

"Please?" Cal says. His voice adopts a begging tone. "I want to try and fix what's going on myself. Getting the hospital involved is the last thing I want to do."

Connie is immediately shaking her head. "No. It goes against everything I stand for. Ethan's little... meltdown was very concerning and I would very much like to get him to speak to a psychiatrist as soon as he's relocated. I really want to alert the , don't look at me like that, I'm doing all I can!"

"Connie…" Cal breathes out shakily. If the police get involved, Cal thinks, they'll find Ethan in a flash and then the hospital will stick their nose in and Ethan will get sectioned. Finding Ethan will become a priority and they'll call him 'unstable'. Cal knows he's not. Ethan is okay. He's just got it get himself out of this bad habit of not eating, right?

 _You can sort Ethan yourself._

"Alright. Fine. He'll speak with a doctor, or… psychiatrist. _But_ \- I will find him without any police or help, and when I do, yeah, I _will_ make an appointment and he'll speak to someone. Whether it takes me hours, days or a month to convince him, he will. Promise. And, when they inevitably say that he's fine and just needs a bit of TLC, I'll sort him until it's all fine and we can come back to work. Because it's just a rough spell. I know it is. Just let me control it from here."

Connie releases a sigh. "Really?"

"Yes. Trust me. I'm a doctor, I know what I'm doing."

"You're also Ethan's brother," Connie says. "And you're in denial."

"About what?!" Cal says immediately. "Yeah, he's lost weight. Yeah, he doesn't want to eat. But I know in my heart of hearts that it's an overreaction to hospitalize him or get the police involved in finding him. I really do."

"Oh…" Connie holds her hands to the side of her head, exhausted emotionally. "Will you keep me updated, when _you_ find him? How the appointment goes, how everything does? Tell me his weight, all of that. Everything."

Cal is nodding quickly. Win. "I promise."

"Okay. As long as you do. I'll be on your back, Caleb, trust me."

"I know you will," Cal says, forcing a smile. "That's fine. I get it. Find him, sleep on it, get a doctor's appointment, where they'll say he's fine, and then I'll just feed him up for a bit. Plan?"

It sounds too ideal. Too perfect. Too _easy_.

But, somehow, Connie is agreeing. "Yes. It's a plan. Well done, Cal. That's very logical," Connie says. "And I'd prefer a gentler approach with an appointment with a doctor in a few days when everything has calmed down."

"Me too."

"Yes. I think everyone prefers that option."

"It's… it's not immoral, keeping him from the hospital?"

"No," Connie says, shaking her head. "No. We're not doing anything wrong. He'll still get treatment with an appointment. It's just a calmer approach. He's not in _any_ immediate danger. He's just a little upset. So it's fine. This is what you want, isn't it, Cal?"

"It is. I-It is."

Connie nods. "Alright. I think it's a very good plan, and I do agree with you. Let's leave it at that."

Cal makes a small noise of agreement. He is extremely glad to have her support. Silently, he sits back. He tries _very_ hard to not picture the alternative of what could've happened if everything went too quick - Ethan in a hospital ward with tubes and… it isn't worth thinking about.

"Cal?"

He looks up. "What?"

"Quit thinking and drink your coffee. Everything will be alright, don't you worry."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Everything is _never_ going to be alright again.

Ethan enters his flat, slamming the door closed. It rings around the place. The silence seems glaring, now more than ever, as the slamming noise ceases.

Nothing will _ever_ feel right again. Ever. His brain repeats this.

He heads straight to his room. The plan still remains. He pulls his suitcase out from its place underneath his bed. It is coated with a thick layer of dust, it's been a long time since he's had a holiday. He's not even having a holiday now. He's having an escape. He… he is running away.

A couple pairs of jeans, that'll do. Jumpers, old shirts, a coat, he'll grab whatever is in his top drawer and shove it in. It's an unorganized mess - usually, he sorts everything by item, neatly doing it to avoid creases and make the most of the space, usually though he isn't trembling this much - but it doesn't matter.

Ethan runs a hand through his wet hair. A couple more items before he can leave the flat and head back outside in the pouring rain. The taxi will be here soon, so he better hurry up.

He rushes into his bathroom. Only a few bits. He pulls out deodorant, shower gel, toothpaste, all the stuff he knows he won't be in the mood to use but brings nevertheless - because it'll give him a false sense of feeling like a functioning human.

In his haste, his shaking hand knocks off a the mouthwash glass from the shelf. Immediately, it falls into the sink and shatters. The noise shocks him. He jumps back, his heart racing.

Glass everywhere. Just when today couldn't get much worse.

Ethan sighs, ignores it, and finds a small plastic bag and puts his - unnecessary - toiletries into the bag. But his mind is unfocused. He can't stop looking at that glass. The pieces shine in the artificial light of the bathroom, staring up at him.

 _It made Liam feel better, didn't it?_

Liam was his patient from a month ago. Was it a month? Ethan has no idea of the concept of time. He doesn't even know what he ate yesterday, for goodness sake, that's how awful his memory is.

Oh. Wait. He remembers - all he ate yesterday was nothing.

Back to his thoughts. Haunting as they are, he can't get them out. Before, a long time ago, when he'd cut his finger open during an argument with Cal, that had felt alright. That had felt _better_. He finds himself longing for it, for a different type of pain opposed to what is tearing him up right now.

Ethan stares down at the broken glass. His chest still hurts. He hasn't cried yet. It's like he's hurting but can't feel where. In his heart, his stomach, who knows. It just feels like a huge weight pressing in his insides. As if his heart is made of stone and is heavy.

He picks up a large shard of glass. It had a sharp edge, almost as if it's meant to be used for-

 _No! You're crazy. What are you doing? Get out of the flat and run away!_

 _I don't want to. I want to do this. I can leave after. Cal won't be back for ages yet._

 _Hurting yourself won't make you feel better. Nothing will._

Ethan tries to block out the internal argument. His eyes focus on the glass. He doesn't have his glasses anymore - they got broken in his fall - but he still can see the beauty of the destructive object. It will make him feel okay for a little while. He can picture the sudden sting and the hiss of pain and the blood and the… the relief that he desperately needs.

He holds the glass against his wrist. It's hardly a secretive place. People will see it. He doesn't care. It's also a dangerous place to injure, he could bleed out if it's too deep. He doesn't care. The taxi he'd also called to take him to somewhere far away was beeping. He doesn't care about that either.

Ethan closes his eyes. He feels them sting with unshed tears.

 _What more have I got left to lose?_

These thoughts of harming himself are the only things that makes sense in his new world of uncertainty. There is nothing left to lose - well, apart from his life. And he wouldn't mind losing that.

He doesn't care. He just doesn't. This existence doesn't feel worth living and this pain does feel worth having.

So, he holds the glass in his hand. Quick inhale. Shaky exhale.

And then he does 'it'. He does what he doesn't choose to name. The name for what he does is scary. He doesn't use it.

Fuck. Ethan cries out in pain as 'it' happens. It's not done just the once. Not twice. It's more times than he can count in this mindset.

It stings, it aches, it hurts. The skin around tingles. And then, when he's crying with pain and dripping with blood, he realizes that he likes the way that it felt. Somehow… somehow that realization seems to hurt more.

He drops the glass fragment onto the floor, suddenly horrified at himself.

 _Stop! Stop! What am I doing?_

Looking down at it, he sees the blood on the sharp edge. There's no time to clear it up. No time. He's got his fix.

And, God. The sting hasn't worn off and he doesn't fucking want it to.

He wants it to hurt more. He wants more pain.

Time to make it happen.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's over twenty minutes when Ethan finally leaves the flat. He's tearstained, weak, and bleeding all the more when he does.

He'd written a note for Cal - out of pity - just before he'd left. A quick: _"I'm sorry. I'm okay, but I'm not coming back. I'm sorry. I love you."_ And that was all he could manage. He'd signed it off with his nickname rather than his actual name. Maybe that'd make Cal smile. Maybe.

Ethan gets into the taxi, exchanges pleasantries with the driver and gives the money to him. The taxi heads off, starting the journey away from the place he once called home. This is it.

Nothing feels real, he thinks, as he leans back into the seat. A rundown of everything replays in his mind. People have found out about his secret. He's run away, he's left his brother, he's cut himself and he's never coming back to his home. It's surreal and scary and weird and he doesn't _really_ like it but it's not changing anytime soon.

The after-effect of regret, remorse and guilt of everything he has done will come soon. Maybe. But not yet. Until then, he'll sit in absolute silence as the taxi takes him away from his home. He stares out of the window, eyes full of tears, and watches as the city he loves gets left behind.


	20. 19: A Quick Decline

**InfinityAndOne:** _Dude! Aw thank you. I'm so so so happy you think it was 'wow'. God, yeah, his thoughts really are. With any luck they will. Yeah, a lot of worrying and scary dialogue was in this chapter. I'm glad you noticed the parallels there. Yes, it really is terrifying. There is a chance, yes! Cal really can't fully grasp how serious it all is, which is something that's got to change. Anyway, thank you for your review._

 **Casualtyfics111:** _Aw thank you. And no problem with the warning, I'll be sure to include them in the future too (there may be a bunch of mentions in this chapter too by the way, but nothing as graphic as the last chapter). That really means a lot. Thank you for your review._

 **Casslourocks:** _That's high praise, thank you so much. I'm glad the sobbing wasn't too much. I did my best to make it that way, really glad it paid off. Let's really hope Cal does. Aw there's no need for thanks! You're really kind. Thank you for your review._

 **SiriuslyPctter:** _I love your crazy review. It's brilliant. Glad you think the chapter was 'snazzy'. You're right, a forced recovery probably isn't the best way forward. Cal thinks he's doing the best thing for Ethan - he doesn't want him to turn out like their parents, or to get to a point of no return in terms of his health. It's really a difficult situation for them both. Yeah, I definitely would've too, he was probably feeling very suffocated and thought he had no choice but to flee. Yes, I think Cal was in too much of a state to be shocked even more! My satanic juices, as you call them, will definitely continue to flow. Thank you for your review (and your French is pardoned haha)!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **31st of May 2017 (3 days later)**

For want of a better word, it's a pretty _shit_ hotel.

Ethan has stayed here for around six days now (Or is it longer? He doesn't know. Every day seems to last a lifetime) and he still can't list a good thing about it. His mind isn't focusing on anything positive. The negatives always seem to be magnified, lately. They're all he can see. It's hard to be positive in a dark room which smells weird.

In actual fact, the room itself is the definition of shabby. No care has been given to keep up even a borderline clean appearance. The bed is soiled with a questioning grey; as if it hasn't been changed for a long time. The bed frame is the opposite of sturdy, creaking with every toss and turn. The shelves hanging above it on the cheaply wallpapered wall are a hazard in themselves. It looks like management attempted to decorate with ornaments that could only be worth £10 at most on the shelf, but gave up quickly as there's only one or two. And with the dusting they certainly didn't give a damn. An inch thick of it rests on his bedside table, the lampshade on the unworking lamp and the yellowing windowsill. There's a strong smell of smoke coming from the window, open just a fraction, because he wanted to at least attempt to clear out the stench of damp.

As for the bathroom, it smells of damp and sickly vanilla hand soap. The flickering light bulb in there has an irritating buzzing noise, filling the small room with an incessant little noise which only annoys him. There's very little that's clean in there. The once white shower curtain is greying, the tiles on the wall are grimy, the scummy counter tops are unwashed and the sides of the bath have peeling silicone sealant in them.

Still, it's a temporary home. All despite its damp smell, growing mold, and irritating noises, that's what it is - home. The price is cheap, so he supposes he's gotten what he'd paid for; no more, no less. And, attempting to think positively, it's usually undisturbed. The staff doesn't tend to knock on his door. And that in itself is a blessing. The peace is what he's been craving.

Currently it's early in the morning. As soon as the clock reads six, Ethan decides he really ought to drag himself out of the bed. Might give him a false sense of confidence that he is, in fact, _okay_ , because people who are okay can wake up early. And he's okay. _Very_ okay.

He's been in the bed for a long time, laying there in a deep state of contemplation. He can hear people traveling down the hallway, maybe hurrying to work. Some could be sneaking away from their one-night stands, or alternatively heading home after a disappointment of a holiday or just nipping down for breakfast to then hide in bed again after. The whole time Ethan has been here, he hasn't walked into the cafes below the hotel room floors. Not once. And he doesn't understand the people who do and can so _carelessly_ eat.

He puts two feet on the cold paneled floor. Almost immediately, he feels his head rush and his arms sting with cold. The tips of his fingers feel positively frozen. Ethan manages to walk through the room and to the bathroom before sitting on the edge of the bath. His whole body is so weak. It's not faring up very well, recently. His bruises from the stair accident are fading but his body still feels just as broken as it did before.

Water. That's what he needs. Ethan reaches over and drinks from the tap water. It makes him grimace but it's all that he'll allow filling his stomach today. He had some sort of food yesterday. And, God, did his body suffer from it.

Ethan silently runs his fingers atop of his sleeved left arm. It hides a lot of secrets. He rests on the edge of the bath more steadily, feeling heavy with the weight of what he'd done on his shoulders.

Because, yesterday, he'd done _it_ again. The temptation of just seeing himself bleed hadn't been something he could say no to. So his body had been inflicted with pain which pleased his mind. The blood has dried now but the memory hadn't faded. There'd been something so forbidden about tearing into his own skin that he'd had to rebel. He'd had to. It calmed his racing mind, it relaxed his thoughts. The shame was hell afterward. But the temporary release he'd gotten from such short-lived satisfaction seemed to be worth the harm to himself.

Ethan refuses to look at his arm. Sighing, he rests his head in his hands. He can't leave the hotel. But he can't stay forever. He can't eat. But he can't starve forever. Was this worth it? The pain he'd passed onto others, was it really worth a month at most of running away, giving himself a new name and living life from a suitcase?

He doesn't know the answer to that question. Not at all. Nor does can he answer the even more glaring one: _What do I do from here?_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **2nd of June 2017 (2 days later)**

 _I'm sorry. I'm okay, but I'm not coming back. I'm sorry. I love you._

Cal re-reads Ethan's note over and over. It's a day of rest, as Charlie calls it (he's come over to see Cal for the morning before work), but Cal has so much he has to do. A lot of thinking.

He's already walked around Holby as far as he can on foot. Mollie had looked yesterday - they take it in turns - and had come home with smudged mascara, shook her head miserably at him when he'd asked if she'd had any luck, then walked straight into their room in defeat. He's decided to take charge and do it alone. And if that involves walking around Holby in search for his brother every night, that's what he'll do.

"If you were Ethan, where would you go?"

Cal can't put himself into Ethan's head. The things he's said and done elude Cal. His mindset is frightening and Cal isn't sure he wants to get into it. "I don't know, Charlie."

"That's alright," Charlie says in reassurance. He perches on the edge of the sofa, raising his eyebrows and looking at the note. "Can I read that, please?" Cal passes it over. Charlie's eyes scan over it quickly, and then lets out an almighty sigh. "Poor sod."

"I know. I've re-read it so much. I still don't know. Where would he go? Why would he run?" Cal bites back tears. "Why would he leave me?"

"Oh, Cal…"

Cal stands up, brushing down his jeans. He won't cry in front of Charlie. He hadn't meant to get so vulnerable around people who he wants to ideally respect him. Charlie's like family sometimes but not even he can see Cal's tears. "Tea?" That's a nice distraction, Cal thinks.

"Uh," Charlie glances at the six cups they'd had between them. "I know I said that I was parched earlier, but there's only so much tea a man can have. You'll explode me."

"Well, I'm having another."

Cal walks into the kitchen, filling the kettle and switching it on. Charlie Follows after him, sitting on the breakfast bar with the note in his hands. They stay in a comfortable silence. Cal goes through the routine of tea-making without a single sound.

He pulls a large mug out, places it down onto the unit, puts in the tea bag, scoops in two spoons of sugar, pours the boiling water in… the task is so mundane but it's something to focus on. Something other than his missing brother and the fears in his mind.

"I'm happy it's tea you like," Charlie says. He rests his arms on the counter. "Not alcohol." It's said in jest but anybody can hear that Charlie knows Cal. And Cal is partial to a bit of alcohol when he's hurting.

Cal manages a short chuckle and ignores the more serious aspect of it. "Oh, I had that for breakfast. But, as my Mum said, tea makes everything better." Unfortunately, she never said how much would make it that ways, but he'll keep drinking it til something changes.

"Ah. Mums are good like that."

"They are," Cal agrees. He likes the lightheartedness of conversation. Quietly, he picks his tea up and sits opposite Charlie at the breakfast bar. He stares down at the drink, a curl of smoke coming from it, and stirs it with a now hot spoon. "My Mum got ill, Charlie." He doesn't know why he said that. It sort of slipped out.

Charlie looks at Cal, his forehead creased and his eyebrows furrowed with sympathy. "I know, Cal. You've said before."

"She was really ill," Cal says. He refuses to meet Charlie's eye. "Cancer. But before that, she was sick with Anorexia, I think it was. And I…" he closes his eyes. "I couldn't stand to see him like she was. Just, in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, nose tube, all that, because she'd gotten so bad that she didn't want to _swallow_ food. Like, she couldn't. She'd gag and throw up. That's how bad it was. I really, really, really want to just make him quit while he's ahead."

"Him?"

"Ethan," Cal says, remembering that not everyone has Ethan ingrained in their minds at every single moment. Not every person knows that 'him' is Cal's missing brother. Charlie stops looking lost and understands Cal's words better. "Yeah. I've got to stop him, Charlie."

Charlie doesn't say anything else on that last sentence. Instead, he extends an arm and rests his hand on Cal's shoulder. It's a silent gesture of solidarity. The look in Charlie's eyes shows that he understands.

"He'll turn up, Cal," Charlie says confidently. "We won't quit searching til he's safe at home."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **10th of June 2017 (8 days later)**

Why can't he stop?

It's too much. Every little thing. It's suffocating And this 'just once' thing he's developed into a habit to help his suffocating, drowning and strong feelings has happened so many times. More than Ethan had anticipated, more than he'd wanted to happen. 'It' was going to get him killed.

Earlier, he'd been crying after listening to all of Cal's voicemails. It'd hurt like a rusty knife to the windpipe. He had went straight to the bathroom and done what seemed to make him feel temporarily better. But, in a haze of tears, he'd sneezed and almost severed an artery. He hadn't, but it still scared him. Not enough to stop doing it whenever he felt like it, though, whenever the urge arised. It's gotten to the point that he's run out of tissues to mop up the blood.

Ethan's eyes are red, burning with tears as he leaves the hotel room. He walks silently down the halls, nervously crossing his arms. This place isn't familiar. It's worlds away to his (once) homely flat, filled with constant conversation and the smells of home-cooking. Instead of the comfort he once knew, the walls here are soaked with the stench of cigarettes and there's shouts from arguments in near rooms. His heart is struck with an anxious feeling he can't nudge.

He's just got to buy some necessities. A bottle of water, tissues, antiseptic cream, bandages for his arms, that sort of thing. Something to clean up the _mess_ he'd made of himself properly and something to drink that wasn't tap water.

But he stops, only a couple dozen feet away from his room door. What's the point? His body feels heavy, his arms ache, and he wants to crawl back into bed. There's no reason to bother. He just wants to sleep.

So he resigns and walks straight back into his room. Door locked, he nestles back under the duvet. The only time he wakes up is because of a nightmare, and soon after that he sleeps again anyway because his exhaustion trumps fear.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **12th of June 2017 (2 days later)**

The door slams as Mollie walks into the flat. She hangs her coat up noisily and chucks her shoes against the wall. Cal can tell her mood is rotten before he sees her face. She wouldn't usually throw her posh shoes like that.

"It's date night," Mollie declares, walking to the middle of the living room with her arms crossed. "You've forgotten?"

Cal extends his legs across the sofa. He'd been on his laptop previously, looking at recent deaths. He isn't in the mood for this. "It's a Monday."

"I said we'd change date night day to a Monday instead of Saturday. I like to switch it up sometimes."

"Oh," Cal says. He closes his laptop lid slowly. "Right. Mols, I'm not in the mood tonight."

That's it, apparently. That's what makes her release a huge sigh, her lips changing into a pout. She stands wordlessly, then runs her painted fingers messily through her loose waves. "You weren't in the mood last week, either."

"Yeah, it's not been a good time recently, babe."

"Don't call me _babe_ ," Mollie says snappily. The tone of her voice indicates that he shouldn't say anything. She pulls her jumper off, carelessly putting it on the coffee table and then sits on the sofa. Sighing, she puts her head in her hands. Neither say anything for a bit.

Cal gets back to looking on his laptop. The statistics for deaths in Holby are large. It's kind of sad that you can read out people's names, recite the messages their loved ones have put down in loss. Cal hunts for Ethan but it doesn't come up. He's probably not in Holby anyway. And, if Ethan's been clever (which he always is) then he'd have avoided telling anyone his real name anyway. Shit.

"You're giving me the silent treatment, then?"

Cal looks up from his screen. "No, I'm on my laptop."

"Ignoring me, yeah," Mollie says miserably. She leans back into the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest like a child. Her fingers play with the rips in her jeans.

"Alright, what's wrong?" Cal says, turning his laptop off officially. He doesn't want to read the names anymore. It's an unnecessary torture when finding Ethan's name on there is as likely as becoming a billionaire in the next hour. "Bad day at work?"

"Yeah, it was!" Mollie says, restlessly changing position. "If you'd even care to ask!"

"I just did ask!" Cal defends quickly. "Look, Mollie, let's not argue. Just talk to me, properly."

Mollie sits up straighter. "Fine, yeah, let's talk. Well, for a start, I had someone vomit down me. I had two men hit on me, one of which kept calling me 'babe' all the while. And when I accidently dropped urine samples on the floor, I got shouted at by two of my seniors, and if that wasn't bad enough, all I got every five minutes was 'how's Cal' and asking for updates on Ethan, which I don't have, because nobody knows where he is!"

Cal feels his heart ache. He wishes he'd have been there at work with her. But Connie won't let him work for obvious reasons, so she's left going alone. "Mollie, I-"

"It's like, if you'd just call the police to find Ethan, I wouldn't get all these questions, you'd be alright as soon as he was found, and everything could go back to the way it was!" Mollie says. Now she's started talking, there's no stopping her. "Cal, this is all your fault!"

"Don't blame me!" Cal says, on the defensive yet again. He's sympathetic to her, of course, but being called out on a fault he doesn't see? He's only been doing his best. No. His sympathy only stretches to far. He genuinely and actually loves her, he really does. But he can't stop his mouth. "I'm not the one who upped and ran! I'm not the one who-"

Mollie stands up, waving her hands to cut him off. "You're mad, Cal. Absolutely delusional. As soon as we find Ethan, then what? You click your fingers and he's alright? No. It doesn't work that way. And it's him that it'll hurt. That'll have a knock on effect, you know. Everyone will suffer. Even you, at the hands of your own stupid ideas!"

"I am trying my hardest!"

"And it's not good enough!"

Mollie's words are left ringing around the flat. They're in the place of what used to be happiness. Laughter. Joy. Conversation. Anything, but the God awful silence which sticks around like a disease. Because the silence is killing the happiness that once was there.

"Cal…" she clamps her lips together, slowly lowering herself back down to the sofa. She doesn't look at him. Her bottom lip twitches and Cal knows she's on the verge of crying. "I didn't mean that," her voice shakes. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch, alright?"

Cal reaches forward, sitting beside her. He doesn't touch her. To touch her might release her tears, and he knows she's trying so hard to hold them back. "You're not a bitch for having feelings, Mollie."

"No, but I shouldn't have shouted."

"You're human," Cal says. It's painstakingly obvious but often times it's forgotten. "And you're upset. That's okay. You… you can shout until you feel better. I'll listen. Might even have a shout with you."

Mollie's eyes refuse to meet his. She looks at her hands, which are shaking. "I don't want to shout," she says in the softest voice.

"Then give me a hug instead."

Mollie doesn't say anything. She nods instead, her breath unsteady as she lets him take her into her arms. She rests softly for a few moments, before suddenly gripping at him and just _bursting_ into tears. Cal screws his own eyes closed for a couple seconds as he hears Mollie's sobs. He doesn't want to hear or see her cry, he hates it. It makes him hurt.

"Come on, come on," Cal rubs her back, trying so hard to comfort her. His own tears begin to slide down his face, dripping onto her hair. They're so hard to stop.

Mollie cries harder. "I just want things to be how they were before, Cal!"

"So do I," Cal says brokenly, agreeing wholeheartedly. He sniffs, disguising it with a cough. "I want them to go back to that too."

She continues to sob, burying her face into his chest as she gasps for breath. Hot salty tears fall into his shirt.

Cal strokes her hair softly. He swallows back the aching lump in his throat. "Let's… let's get some sleep."

Sleeping offers respite. And Mollie takes the offer, almost immediately.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **13th of June (1 day later)**

A night has passed. It's early morning. Mollie can't sleep in, despite it being her day off, so she sits and watches Cal rest instead. He's in a deep sleep, with the duvets and blankets kicked off of him. The fan makes his hair blow slightly, cooling him from the heat of June.

Mollie silently touches his arm, sighing. It's the only good night's' sleep he's got in days. And that's not healthy.

Something _really_ has got to change.

She gets up and leaves the room without a trace or single noise. Her feet walk carefully, not wanting to make a single creak. Hesitating as she reaches the second bedroom, her hand floats mid-air by the door handle. Should she?

Mollie's heart knows the answer. Yes.

She walks into the second bedroom - Ethan's room. It's all neat and clean, the bed made and everything dusted. The windows are open, letting the breeze in. Cal cleaned it one night, heartbrokenly saying " _It's gotta be nice for him when he comes back home to us_ ". That was when Molle truly recognised how much Ethan's disappearance had broken him. Cal never cleans, and he'd never cried as much as he did after that, his head resting in her blouse as she'd held him.

Mollie shakes her head of the memory and begins. Her fingers card through his drawers, trying to find something, anything, to convince Cal.

Her plan? Convince Cal that the help Ethan will receive should be professional. That he's in a worse state than Cal has anticipated. Because he's lying to himself.

But help can't be given unless they have Ethan himself. And she's taking care of that.

First, proof. Get Cal to see what he's blind to. Try and find something of Ethan's that's secret, and will hopefully wake Cal up. Where do people always hide their secret things? Their drawers.

Her fingers find a small black notebook, hidden in the collection of shirts. She flicks through it. Lots of numbers. She looks closely. There's writing upon writing. This is worth reading.

 _ **12/4/2017**_

 _Breakfast: Nothing._

 _Lunch: Black coffee (2 calories)_

 _Dinner: Two dry crackers (32 calories)_

 _Note: I had about 500 calories yesterday, which is too much. This is all I can have today. Tomorrow I'll go hungry again. Also, I lost about 5 KG recently - can't see straight. But it's worth it._

Mollie's stomach drops. She immediately flicks through. It's hard to comprehend Ethan's thoughts but this is like having a peek into his mind. Oh, God. There's so much more calorie counting, depressing notes, so much. Mollie drops the book. She knew things were bad but this is dark.

 _I've got to do something, I've really got to do something..._

And boom. An idea.

She picks up her phone. Without a second's hesitation, she finds Ethan's number and presses it. When it goes to voicemail, she calls it again. And again. The number of times she rings gets higher and higher.

Suddenly, there's a click. The little beeps disappear and there's silence instead. No 'please leave your message after the beep'. Instead, there's a small _: "What?"_

"Ethan?" Mollie says, her voice tinged with shock that he'd actually picked up. She closes her eyes, feeling blessed. "Oh, good. I didn't think you'd pick up!"

There's a sniff. _"I had to,"_ he says before releasing a small sigh. _"You wouldn't stop calling."_

"Yeah, well," Mollie says. Her forehead creases. "Honey, are you alright?"

He sounds like he's been crying. _"Look, just leave me alone. It's for the best."_

"I don't think so," Mollie says. _No way,_ she thinks. _I'm going to get you to come home_. "Ethan, it's your brother," she looks at the peaceful, sleeping body of Cal covered only slightly by a thin blanket. Mollie runs her tongue along her lips. The lie is rotting in her mouth before it's spoken. She closes her eyes, sighs, and says: "He's had an accident."

A pause. _"You're a liar."_ And then, the phone goes dead.


	21. 20: Plans

**BlueRoses:** _No need to apologise! I understand. It really does feel like running salt in the wound when Cal is canonically gone... oh god. It's fine, I ought to be thanking you for such a lovely review. You're right about things quickly spiralling out of control... at this point, that's my Brand haha. I think I remember that line, yes. I'm sorry that line is relatable to you, it's not an enjoyable feeling. That's such a good point! Even at the start of the year, he was unstable - this is what he found solace in. It's beyond the weight. Way beyond the weight. Thank you for looking into it like that, it's flattering! It's good Cal finally knows, yes! Aw, thank you! Well, every plan has its faults and unfortunately, Mollie's did. We'll have to see! Let's hope they do because writing them apart is genuinely killing me. Thank you so much! You made my day when you posted this review (a long time ago wHOOPS I'm sorry it's been a wait) and it still makes me smile. Thank you so much for your review and I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Naughty Mollie indeed. We'll have to see - hopefully you'll enjoy what happens - and aw, happy to hear that! Thank you lots for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _You are TOO kind babe thank you! Okay but just to hear you were re-reading it makes my day a bit brighter, aw. Yep, I didn't forget about The Notebook! Good point, hopefully, it will because Cal is currently in denial - a blast of truth is what he needs really. (I got it!) It is sad, yes, it's shame he's sceptical nowadays. You're so right, he's progressively getting worse with nobody to help and no hope of trying to help himself. Aw no, thank you! I really hope you enjoy this next chapter. Thank you very much for your review!_

 **A/N:** _Yeah I don't know what happened either, where did I go, well who knows, but I'M BACK so let's get on with the story :D_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **15th of June 2017**

"Is it illegal?"

Paul Sanderson scoffs. "Illegal? My darling, I'm a policeman. That information alone should answer your question."

Mollie sits on the edge of the sofa, watching him tap away at his laptop. His eyes are fizedonto the screen, his body tense as his mind concentrates. It's not tricky business, he'd said, but he was deeply fixated onto this task. Perhaps wary of getting it wrong, knowing how much it means to her. Mollie's phone rests in his hands, which he looks down at occasionally but then straight up again at the laptop.

He's fully engrossed in the task she gave him; the one of tracking down Ethan.

"Don't you worry." He says as she fidgets. "I know what I'm doing."

"I'm starting to have second thoughts, Dad." Ever since her plan to lure Ethan back using his brother had failed, she's been considering this possibility. Now, she's unsure.

He stares up at her for a bit, surprised. And then he looks down at the laptop again. "You asked for a reason. No backing out. Don't even think about it."

"Yeah, but what if he gets upset?"

"From what you've told me, if nobody gets to him soon, he won't be able to be upset. Dead people can't feel anything," he says. Mollie looks down. She doesn't like what he's saying. Her Dad looks up at the same time she does. "Not eating. Tricky business. I hope it's some sort of phase, love, even. It sometimes is."

"I hope it is too."

"Hmm," he stops, deep in thought. "I'm glad you weren't like that. Dieting. But not properly. You know? I'm glad. You're my healthy girl. You know you're lovely. Nothing to change."

Mollie forces a smile. She doesn't need him to compliment her but it does cheer her up a fraction. "Thanks, Dad."

"Hmmm. Don't go copying his habits, yes?"

"Dad, as if," she says, sounding all of fifteen years old again. "I would never, you know that. Ethan's ill. I know that, even if Cal hasn't faced it."

Her Dad smiles at the screen of his laptop. There's nothing to smile about, really. But he is.

"What?"

"Even when you seem mad at Cal, you still say his name so lovingly. I'd like to meet him before the wedding, please."

"Wedding?!" Mollie sounds more alarmed than she meant to. "There's no wedding on the horizon, Dad," she feels bad for saying that. "Not yet, anyway."

"Teasing," her Dad grins. "Ah. Here we go," the room seems to go colder. Mollie edges forward.

"What?" She says immediately. "What is it?"

His face is darkened. His face is now serious - but satisfied - and his voice is lower as he claims: "I've got a location, love."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **17th of June 2017**

 _He's eating. It's uncontrollable. His stomach growls for food, his body pining for it. He cannot stop._

 _Careless shoving, chewing, swallowing, the same process repeating endlessly. With every mouthful, it seems like he grows more. His mind is hyper-aware of the fat attached to his body - the multiplying fat. It's like he's an ever-growing balloon. The seams of his clothes are ripping. Buttons are holding on by a loose thread. He can't even breathe, suffocated by... himself. He's eating so much he can't take in a breath. Calories are quickly transforming into stones which build him up._

 _Stop! Stop! But he can't. He can't. The sense of no control is like sitting in a car with your hands tied - unable to reach the steering wheel, watching as the world crashes around you because you can't stop yourself from hitting it. Tied hands; tired hands. Tired of piling and shoving and picking up food, shoving it in his mouth, almost choking on every mouthful._

 _He can't breathe. The air is thick, his throat seemingly getting smaller. It's like trying to breathe through a mouthful of cotton wool._

 _And, all the while, he's still eating._

 _Suddenly, he can't breathe at all. Sweat is glueing his clothes to his fat back. The air is hot, like he's sitting in a sauna, and he can't get out. He's stuck in his seat. Finally, he's stopped eating, but people are staring because he's still growing and growing and he can't breathe and he's still growing and he's about to explode and he can't get any air in and-_

Ethan wakes up.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **19th of June 2017**

How long has it been since Ethan ran away? A couple days? A dozen months? _Years_? Because everyone's already moving on over him as if he'll never return.

This news of Connie announcing to the team, before Cal, that she was looking to employ someone else in Ethan's absence, sent Cal reeling over the edge. Seriously? He'd barely restrained his words before storming after her.

"He'll be back soon," Cal tells Connie yet again, as if saying it will make it true. "Really soon."

Connie looks up from organizing the bookshelf in her office. "What proof have you got to back this fact up?"

"No proof. Brother's intuition."

Connie says nothing - unbelieving. She goes back to arranging. "I'm sorry, Dr Knight. We've waited long enough. The hospital just can't run with a missing member of staff. I'll need to employ others."

"That's doing him out of a job! What's going to happen when he comes back and his job is gone? How'd you think that'll make him feel, _good_?"

"I've already thought of this," Connie says, slotting a book in. Cal crosses his arms from behind her. "I have, and I've already told you. The person I employ will be temporary and _know_ about the situation. And when Dr Hardy decides to grace us with his presence again, then he can have his job back."

"Don't be like that." Cal hates the sour tone of her voice and momentarily forgets who he's speaking to.

Connie turns to him, perplexed. "I wasn't. I'm actually being very generous," she gives him a look that makes him squirm. "Listen. Realistically, I won't employ anybody. NHS cuts make it hard for everybody. The hospital can barely afford it. We'll have locums to keep us going. So don't worry about it. Nobody is taking your brother's place - we're keeping it open for him. Which is _generous_ ," she puts emphasis on the last word, "because he chose to leave in the first place."

"So you're doing him a favour?"

"Most employers wouldn't let their employee leave and give them a place back," she tells him. "I know the circumstances so the situation is being handled differently. You could say it's a favour, I suppose, yes."

Cal understands her answer. It's the right one. "So you promise you definitely won't employ anyone else?"

"I didn't say that exactly, Cal. We'll see what happens in the upcoming weeks," Connie says. She turns her back on him, eyes fixed on the books. "Right. Go on, off to work with you. Or would you rather get sent home for the _fourth_ time this week?"

"I'll work."

"Thought so," she says knowingly. She pulls out a hardback from her shelf, bouncing it in her hands. "Before you go, have this."

Cal accepts it hesitantly. It's a chunky book with an entertaining title; "The Life-Changing Magic of Not Giving a Fuck", with the last word censored out. He snorts. "It's got sticky notes in it, marking pages for reference, presumably."

Connie goes a shade of pink. "So it has," she says, as if she had no idea about it.

"Never had you down for a self-help book type." He's tempted to ask if she was taking notes from it and everything.

"There's nothing wrong with buying a book in an attempt to sort your head out in times of need," she says, rehearsed and confident. Cal looks at her, unconvinced. Eventually, she admits: "Alright, Charlie bought it for me. I know it's not my usual style."

"Yeah. Your usual style goes something like 'bottle it up and never deal with it', am I right?"

"Takes one to know one," Connie says without hesitation. She makes her way to her desk, lowering herself onto her seat. "I'd like you to have it."

Cal immediately feels touched. But he knows he can't take it. "I can't, I-"

"Nonsense. You need it more than me at this moment in time, that's obvious."

"How so?"

"You don't look like you've showered," she observes, raising an eyebrow. "The Caleb Knight I know has a strange obsession with his hair looking nice."

Cal touches his hair subconsciously. "I do not."

"Of course you don't," she says with a gentle smile. "Go on. Back to work with you. Give that a read when you have some time."

"Alright," he says. He begins out of the office, stopping at the door and touching the frame with a spare hand. "Thanks, by the way."

"It's my pleasure, Caleb."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **20th of June 2017**

It's been five days since Mollie's father located Ethan. And it's been five days that she hasn't done anything about it.

She wants to. She desperately does. Without Ethan, Cal is falling apart - and selfishly, so is their relationship. Tragedies or misfortune is meant to bring couples together, so why is this seeming to tear them apart?

Mollie sits on her phone in the evening, a fan blowing cold air in her face as Cal returns home, trying to write what she's going to say to Ethan. She quickly switches it off. He doesn't know about her plan; the admittedly unfleshed out plan. She finds him and then what? Uses her power of speech to lure him home? Unlikely. But it's all she's got. To attempt physically dragging him home would feel both cruel and as though she would break him. He looked breakable enough when she last saw him. Who knows how much more weight he's lost and what he's down to now?

"You had tea?"

Mollie motions to her empty plate. She'd also been heavily comfort eating too but he didn't need to know that. "Yeah. Yours is in the cupboard."

Cal goes quiet. The change of volume makes her look at him, up from pretending to watch the left on television. "The cupboard?"

"Sorry, I meant the microwave."

Cal laughs but it sounds plastic. "Thanks. Tired?"

"A bit."

"Yeah, you've been busy recently," he says. Mollie nods, switching her phone back on. She changes positions so he can't see what she's doing. "What're you up to?" He asks, the microwave beeping as he gets it going.

"Just, uh, texting a friend."

"Have they got anything to say?"

"Not really," Mollie says vaguely. She gets a text from her Dad, giving more screenshots of maps for her. That'll be helpful.

"Oh. What-"

"Look,Cal," she interrupts. "Can we talk later? I'm just a bit busy."

Cal goes silent. He nods, taking his food out of the microwave. It's barely cooked but he seems to want to get out quickly. From his slumped posture, it's obvious that she's hurt the confident Caleb Knight with her poisonous little words.

Mollie feels guilty for cutting him off. "Cal, I-"

"It's fine, Mollie," he says, a big smile on his face. "I'll leave you to it."

Mollie throws her head back as he leaves. Fantastic. Now he's wounded during a time when he's usually in pain enough - and it's all her fault. Guilt weighs her down.

It's all well and good keeping secrets but they all so often come at a cost. She just doesn't want it all to ruin her relationship - because that's one of the reasons she's bloody _doing_ this plan for.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **21st of June 2017**

He wonders how many times one can stare at the same ceiling before they go crazy. Surely, he's surpassed that amount.

Ethan lays on his back, unmoving. The swirls in the ceiling can be made into something interesting if you look hard enough, the caked on paint can be imagined into un-deliberate pictures. One looks like a baby wrapped in a towel, like a living burrito. He smiles. It's a sweet thought.

He turns to his side, a smile still etched on his face. It fades slowly - different than usual. Smiles tend to fade quickly. This one lasted fractionally longer. Seems promising. There's a vague possibility that he might feel momentarily better. Despite his seemingly terminal madness, the room seems to be getting lighter - spirits lifted from within him. A weak flow of watered down energy trudges through his veins. He wants to get up. That's something he hasn't wanted to do in a while.

It's about time to get a breath of fresh air. He pulls himself up out of his bed. His clothes, creased with sleep he hadn't had, feel looser as he staggers across the floor. He hasn't eaten in a few days - the last meal he did have was half a slice of bread and he almost threw up after it - and the weakness is in his body. Despite this, he's vaguely looking forward to leaving the cage he's been in.

Ethan exits the room soon after getting up. Being in there for such a lengthy period of time had made him feel even more like he wasn't in the real world - a fake, dream-like version he'd maybe concocted in his imagination seems more likely - so this feels like a shock.

He's genuinely not sure what's real or a dream anymore. Reality and fiction seems merged - the lines blurred. Is that a real person, dressed head to toe in summer gear? Is he actually awake? Or is he in the depths of another dream again? Who knows. He certainly doesn't.

As he finds himself outside, he realizes, no, this is real. He's not dreaming. For once he's in reality - and reality sounds like traffic and smells like smoke but he wouldn't have it differently.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(Same day) 21st of June 2017**

On the sixth day, Mollie's idea transforms into an action plan. She gets a taxi, telling Cal she's visiting her Dad again, and it begins.

As soon as she steps out of the taxi, the air pushes her hair into her face. Mollie uses a hand to brush it away, irked. It's early - barely nine 'o'clock. If this is the start to the day, then she doesn't want to see how awful it is at the end of it. Progressive bad days are her least favourite occurance.

Mollie finds a bench and she sits herself down. Around her is a town she's barely visited before. It's the location her Dad had given her. And it's... it's something. Tall dull buildings around a sky of grey. There's a smell of salt and fried fat from a nearby chip shop, and the loud sizzling coming from outside. Cars roll past, leaving smoke in their wake.

 _"This address might not be entirely accurate," her Dad had admitted a couple days ago. "But he'll be around there. Trust me. You'll find him if you go to this address."_

She doesn't like it. She especially doesn't like the idea of Ethan being around somewhere as grey, negative, and depressing as this. It's like someone has desaturated the world. This place could age someone a couple years in a few minutes.

It's not a location she'd imagine him to go to for solace. But, honestly, she barely knows him. They're ultimately strangers who live together. Or did, anyway.

After she's gotten her bearings - well, after checking where the nearest police station is on Google Maps, just in case - she gets to her feet. She ignores eye contact from strangers. There's a task that needs to be done, no time fo small talk. Not that these people looked friendly enough to do such a thing anyway. It's a work _and_ school day. She doesn't stop to ask what a group of kids are doing by a brick wall.

There's a shabby looking hotel ahead of her. Her Dad's directions suddenly make sense. That's the most obvious place Ethan would go - a temporary home. It's not like he pitched up at someone's house, is it? Mollie begins striding toward it.

Before she's even a metre within the automatic doors, she hears violent coughing as if the person hasn't had a drink in years. It sounds painful. Mollie pauses. She looks about to find the source of the noise.

There's a person with their back to her. Immediately, her nurse instincts kick in - but she knows she can't go to them. It's such an obvious trick. She'll go up to help and bam, they're a criminal. With her Dad in the police force, the knowledge of bad people is ingrained in her mind.

"Are you okay?" She shouts from a distance. Safest thing she could do. "There's a shop over there if you need water."

They suddenly go stiff at the sound of her voice. The coughing stops. Mollie wonders what she says wrong.

"I've, uh..." she reaches into her handbag. "Got some money. If you want it. You know, for the water?"

They don't reply. Mollie gets impatient.

"Fine. Whatever. I've got to go, someone needs me," she says distractedly. She begins walking to the hotel. "Have a good day."

"Thanks." The person finally says weakly. Their voice sounds rough as sandpaper from the coughing.

But it sounds familiar too.

She stops in her tracks. Quickly, she turns around and bounds nearer to the person. Of course, she should be more careful. But she can't make herself to. Curiosity is infecting her.

"Do I know you?" She asks. But she knows the answer.

Then she's staring at this 'stranger' as he turns to her - his dirty jeans and creased shirt. The sleep in his eyes, the exhaustion in his steps. His slim jaw, his skeletal thin frame.

Fear in his face.

Mollie takes a step forward. "Ethan?"


	22. 21: Not A Promise

**InfinityAndOne:** _I had to I'm sorry! Haha, oh God it was a frightening nightmare. It's good she finally did, yes - we'll have to see. I really hope I don't disappoint with this chapter, I had so much trouble with it for some reason; this is literally the fifth attempt. Anyway, thank you for your review as always!_

 **casualtyfics111:** _(It's been so long that I think you've changed your username, oops, bad me) Thank you so much! Dramatic is certainly what I was going for. He really is. Thank you for your review! And don't worry about that, by the way - student life is never laid back so I get it!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Ah no haha! He's really gone physically downhill, really, and emotionally isn't much better. Hopefully she can, because at the moment neither are in the mindset to help themselves. It's a good thing she's there! Aw your last paragraph made me smile so much! I really, really, really hope I don't disappoint with this chapter. I'm not sure on it at all, and that's not just me digging for compliments! Thank you for your review!_

 **bronny9:** _Aw I appreciate that, thank you for your review!_

 **SiriuslyPctter:** _Sorry it's been a while (as always) I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for your review!_

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 **(Same day) 21st of June 2017**

 _She's here. Why is she here? I'm not worth being here for._

 _Those eyes. They keep looking. It makes me sweat, the sun pressing down on us, wind ripping through our clothes. She's scanning me, searchingly. Trying to read me. Good luck._

 _I couldn't say no. Running wasn't possible, not with her linking her arm into mine. To my room we go. I don't know what she wants. I wish I could see straight._

 _She's sitting, now. Staring. Again. Straightened brown hair, dull eyes, painted and slightly parted lips as if she's thinking, desperately, of what to say. I sit oppositely to her. I wait. Neither of us speak. I pull my sleeves over my hands. We await something which isn't going to happen._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Mollie isn't working today, then?"

"No," Cal is stood in reception - refreshing his phone messages, over and over, awaiting a miracle - by the desk. "Day off."

Charlie walks to Cal's side, quietly. He's always been a calming presence. Cal turns off hs phone, meeting Charlie's eyes; they have a look in them which isn't as patronizing as pity. Sympathy, that's it.

"Shouldn't it be your day off?"

"Yeah. Only so much sitting about I can do, though."

Sigh. That's all Cal ever hears. _Sighs_. He does the same. "I'm sure it'll all be back to normal soon, Cal."

"You're probably right," they know it's a lie.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I'm glad I found you."

 _I don't ask how she did. I watch her curiously. I've never taken her for one who would do detective work but people are full of surprises. I wouldn't have expected her to dedicate precious time to me either. Surprises._

"How are you?"

 _Shrug. I figure I should ask her how she is but I don't. It feels like there's a knot in my throat. I can just hear my voice if I were to speak. Scratchy. Weak. Pathetic._

"Do you want to get a drink? We could grab a coffee."

 _I don't. She knows I don't want to._

"Water, then?" _When I don't make advances to reply, she does one of those little huffs that Cal does sometimes._ "I just want to help you, Ethan."

 _Help me?_

 _Like the basket case I am, I suppose. Poor Ethan. Needy. Struggling. Troubled, wounded…_

 _A run away._

 _I'm on my feet as she begins to speak again. My vision is wobbly, my glasses are sliding off of my nose. She tries to stop me, arm flailing, but I dodge her. I reach the door. I grasp the handle. I push._

 _I collapse before I make it out of the room._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

After Cal tries and fails to do his job properly - he's honestly rushing about like a headless chicken, armed with good intent but not a full night of sleep - he is banished to the staff room before he causes any harm. It's empty in there, as usual. It's where he spends the majority of his time.

Cal pulls out his phone. He's been thinking, coming up with plans. Mollie's approval is needed; or wanted, anyway. He scrolls his call log. Most recent one is Mollie's number. Second most recent call is Ethan. None of those calls were returned. Cal swallows back any emotion.

He presses her number. He waits, the dialling tone ringing in his ear. The beeps go on and on. If rejection had a sound, that's what it'd be. A phone call not being returned.

In vain, he tries a couple more times. Nothing. He gives in and plays a couple games before his phone chimes.

 **Mollie:** _Can't pick up right now, sorry_

Cal's brow creases. It doesn't sound like Mollie. The way she speaks is peppered with 'loves' and 'honey' and 'gorgeous's and she always uses more kisses than words. But this, it's quick and hasty.

As the feeling of rejection and disappointment begins to settle in, Cal sinks into the sofa. He's already lost Ethan. A sad little part of him thinks that he's losing Mollie too.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It's been a couple minutes. He's rousing. Repeatedly, he falls back into a daze, and then out again, and then back in. Eyes closed. Opening, slowly, filled with stupor.

The floor isn't comfortable. Mollie used her initiative to pull him, when he was fighting with consciousness (but losing) and at least able to stand, onto the bed. She doesn't pull the covers over him. It's hot and stuffy. It feels like they're in a box.

Mollie pushes open a window. A cooling breeze works itself around the room. Whilst the heat escapes out of the window, she works about the place, cleaning. Odd plastic cups. Jackets. Bandages? No food. There's a dripping noise coming from the bathroom. He's left the tap on. She switches it off and then returns to his side.

Her weight dips the mattress. He's small, sinking into the bed. It's too big for him. Seems like it'll swallow him alive.

"Alright?"

Tiredly, he bobs his head. "Sleep."

"No. No sleep. Later." She pulls her bag to her, sliding it across the floor and fishing for her phone. Several missed calls. She'd texted Cal earlier but received no reply. She wonders how Cal respond if she told him the situation right now. _He'd tear down the road to the hotel_ , she thinks.

"Don't call Cal."

"I'm not going to," she pulls out a bottle of water. "Drink."

He drags himself up - quite literally, it obviously requires a huge effort on his part, despite his lack of weight - and rests against the bed frame. He releases a deep sigh. Then he thanks her for the water, downing three quarters of it.

"We need to get you home," she says, knowing he won't like it. She was right about that. His breaths immediately stopped regulating at a healthy pace, instead he took in short gasps, not meeting her eye, unable to focus on anything.

Eventually, he shakes his head. It's done a little while too late. "Don't want to go home."

"You must, Ethan." The firm way she says his name makes him look at her, at least for a couple seconds. "Look at you," she pauses for affect. "Do you like looking like that?" It's the wrong thing to say. She knows this. But the words are tumbling out before she can stop them.

"Like what?"

"All thin. It's not right."

"Then I suppose I'm _'not_ _right'_ , then."

"Oh, hun."

"I can't _stand_ that." He grasps her water tightly in his hands. The tips of his fingers turn white. "You're just so nice. So nice that everyone is forced to notice it. Niceness infects you. All the honeys and loves and everything, well, no, I won't... I won't fall victim to it. You can't get me in your… net."

The outburst doesn't affect her. Well, it does - all she wants is to shout back, to argue, to show her hardly lesser spotted temper - but she keeps calm. She pulls forward, a hand on his forehead. "Have more water. You're very warm."

"Just go. Please. Go. I don't know what you want."

" _You_ ," she says purposefully. "That's all I want. Just you, to come back."

"Why would you want that?"

"Because I care about you."

Short laugh. It's empty. Tired and half-hearted. "Couple of months, that's how long we've known eachother."

"Time doesn't matter."

"It does, it does," he leans back, exhausted. "I don't want to fight. I just want to be alone."

"You can't be alone forever."

"It's the only option."

"Home is an option!"

"It's not," he says, sober.

"Why not? What on earth are you afraid of?"

"Nothing."

"Obviously it's something."

Weaker, he mutters, "nothing" again. There's a small pause where neither say anything. He swallows a couple times. She waits. There's a perfect gap in the conversation for him to confide, to spill everything and to tell her why he's frightened, why he doesn't eat, and everything in-between. He could talk, she'd listen, but he wouldn't even open his mouth.

Part of her wonders if _he_ even knows what he's afraid of.

Mollie is thinking on this, trying to scan his expression, when her phone rings. They both jump.

"It's Cal," she states when she reads the caller ID.

"I'm not here."

" _Ethan_ ," she scolds as the phone continues ringing, "you need to stop hiding. He's your _brother_. All he wants is your safety, nothing else."

"I don't trust him alright?"

Mollie gets to her feet, declining the call. "You should know that people wanted to get the police involved. To drag you back, call mental health services, but Cal said no. He fought for you; every day, he is still fighting for you."

"I know, I know, he's an amazing brother - and I'm the horrid one who ran away because I didn't know what to do!" He brings his balled fists down onto the mattress. "He deserves better. Way better."

Her phone starts ringing again. She sighs, her hands coming to her head and her fingers wriggling into her hair.

Ethan goes quiet. "Sorry."

"Why?"

"For shouting."

"You didn't-"

"I raised my voice," he says. Softly, he mutters, "just talk to him. _You_ , and only _you_. I can't."

Mollie breathes in sharpy, catching a breath. There's nothing she can do to convince him. It's obvious now.

Turning her back, she accepts the call and holds it to her ear. "Now isn't a good time."

" _Where are you? I've called several times!"_

"Just out."

" _Define 'out'."_

"Outside. In the great outdoors. Wherever," she says. "You're working, aren't you? You should be treating patients and signing paperwork and doing doctor stuff, right?"

" _Wrong. I've been shoved in the staff room as usual. Look, I've just been thinking, and I need to talk to you about something."_

Mollie raises her eyebrow. "Right?"

" _About Ethan."_

She turns, eyeing him on the bed. He's holding his knees, brought up to his chest, watching her too. Swiftly, she puts her phone on loudspeaker. Ethan looks guiltier still as Cal's voice crackles from it.

" _I can't wait any longer,"_ he says from the other end. _"Neither of us have any idea if he's alright. I think it was stupid to just wait, as if he's going to come back on his own. He's not, is he?"_ Ethan fidgets uncomfortably on the bed. _"I'm going to tell everyone at the hospital."_

"I thought they already knew?"

" _Nah. I mean, a couple do. Connie. Charlie. Lily; she was the one who actually said he'd, uh, stopped eating."_ There's a painful pause. _"It'll be in their hands from then on."_

"Hang on, Cal-"

" _When we get him back, I'll be the one in control again. But until then, we're going to have to rely on others to help. He probably won't listen to me. When people find out, I'm sure they'll want to help."_

Mollie perches on the edge of the bed, the phone between her and Ethan. "It's all your choice, Cal. You know I'll support you in whatever you want to do. I mean," she looks at him, "I don't have a single clue what to do."

" _Don't worry. I don't either. This is the last solution I can find. If police get involved, whatever. I just want him to be found. I need him to be found."_

Mollie watches Ethan. He's listening intently to Cal, breathing unsteadily. His eyes meet Mollie's.

"Cal," she says quietly. "If there was one thing you could say to Ethan right now, what would you say?"

There's a laugh but it doesn't sound genuine; it sounds more airy. _"He's not dead, you know,"_ but he sounds unsure, and he trails off on the last word.

Mollie softens more. "Just do it, yeah?"

Small pause. There's still noises in the background; people talking, phones ringing, and beeps, far away laughter and not so far away sniffing.

" _Alright,"_ he sounds quieter than before. _"I'd say to him that I miss him. That I don't understand why he left, but I want to. I can't stand the silence of the flat. Even when I've got people round, it's still too empty because it's missing him, the space he left can't be filled. I'd want him to know that I'll never stop looking for him, I'll never give up hope. Above everything, I just want him back, I suppose."_ There's a loud sniff. _"I don't know. That was more than one thing."_

"That's lovely, Cal."

" _I just want it all back to normal, I don't…"_

"I know, I know," she says softly. "Me too," her eyes meet Ethan's.

They don't speak, instead they just sit in eachothers company. Cal is still sniffing. Mollie waits, phone in her palm, and Ethan keeps rubbing his eyes. When he speaks - or, more whispers - she realizes why.

"Can I talk to him?" His voice is brittle.

Mollie immediately nods. "Of course you can."

" _Mollie, who are you talking to?"_ That's Cal.

"It's not a promise," Ethan says, trembling. "It's just talking, right?"

"It's whatever you make it. No promises unless you make them."

"Alright," he says quietly.

Mollie passes the phone, switching it off loudspeaker. Ethan holds it to his ear, visibly shaking. She wants to put her arm around him but they're not quite there yet, not really. Cal's voice is leaking out of it, crackling, asking who Mollie is with, because he heard a voice, he swears.

"Hi, Caleb, it's me," Ethan says, battling with tears. "Stop crying, you idiot. It's me, it's Ethan." He closes his eyes. "And I'm fine."

Cal is talking again, loud, hysterically unbelieving but relieved. So relieved. Mollie doesn't care if they've not there yet. She moves forward, her arm around Ethan, and he's tense but he leans into her. She pretends not to notice as a tear slides onto her, more following, and how his voice is thick with emotion.

It seems positive but she's trying not to get ahead of herself. As he said, it's a conversation; it's not a promise.


	23. 22: In Control

**20BlueRoses:** _I'm so happy you're pleased! Ah yay! I'm really happy you like the emotion in it. Mollie really was doing her best. It all was quite positive! Ideally, he really would begin getting the help he needs - we'll have to see what happens in regards to that! I hope you enjoy this chapter too, there's more touching on Ethan's side of things soon. I like switching point of views a lot haha. Thank you so much for your review, made my afternoon better!_

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 **(Same day) 21st of June 2017**

She's waiting beside him. _Waiting_ meaning sitting, silently, because she's unsure of what's meant to be happening next. No words or actions make sense, so she doesn't do any of them.

Ethan's being quiet. Too quiet. Since the phone call, he's stitched his lips closed. It's obvious that nothing will unpick them.

Despite herself, knowing it'll be fruitless, she tries.

"How about we go and get a drink now?"

Nothing.

"Let's head out."

At least she receives one thing - a tiny shake of his head.

"Alright, let's stay in and chat."

It's like his lips sew even tighter together.

"Are you okay?"

Not even a blink.

"Come on, Ethan."

Her attempts at conversations falter as expected. It's new to her, even the prospect of social failure. Confident by nature, it's always been her starting conversations and getting people to listen to her - it's barely ever failed. People are drawn to big smiles and open body language, which she is good at. He's not drawn to anything. He's sitting, resting against the bed headboard, thinking, whilst she is left wondering what on earth to do next.

Unexpectedly, he moves closer to her. It takes her heart by surprise. She lifts her arm and he rests into her embrace. Wordless. Mollie listens as life passes by outside, the egg yolk yellow sun setting over the horizon, but it feels as though time is presently standing still.

"What do you want to do now?"

She doesn't expect a reply but she gets one. "I don't know, Mollie," he's still quiet, "do I have to go home?"

"No, not unless you want to," she says. "Your choice."

"You won't call Cal?"

"Not without your say so."

He's quiet for a moment. "Thank you. Don't know why you're being nice to me."

"You're meant to be nice to siblings. You're the closest I've got to one. I like games, playing big sister is fun."

He's not put out by the sibling comment. "Having a brother isn't all fun and games."

"I've gathered that. But I still like it."

They're back to sitting quietly - Mollie waiting, Ethan's lips sewn back together again. But it feels different this time.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Cal has splashed cold water over his face - the age old trick - but it hasn't convinced anyone.

"Go home," Connie says. "Your shift is almost over anyway."

He does as he's told, but he doesn't tell her what's going on when she asks. Not about Ethan, anyway. He tells her about the patients she'll need to take over, he talks and talks until his throat is sore, just so she won't take advantage of a conversation gap to ask what's wrong; because his brothers name would just escape his lips.

Deep down, he feels a vague sense of sinking guilt for his lack of honesty. He'd promised her that she'd be the first to know when Ethan was located. There was big plans. It was meant to be in Connie's control - she was going to be in charge of sorting the mess that was their life, the reason he's dropped more weight than he should.

It can't be hers to sort out. This is something that Cal _must_ control now.

Cal disappears out, after being given several shoulder pats by several colleagues. They still don't know what's going on. Rumors are spreading but he hasn't given attention to a single one. He's had other topics on his mind.

When he comes home, it's empty. It's no surprise but he's still disappointed.

The following seconds are dedicated to watching his phone in case it rings. He's waiting. Same as he has been for what seems like years. He's just begging whoever made this earth to do this one thing for him right now, for his phone to ring or vibrate with a text. All he wants is to hear or see those words, typed out in Arial font.

 _I'm coming home, Cal._

They don't come. The phone doesn't ring. It doesn't vibrate with a text. Hope is becoming lost.

He can't wait anymore. It's time for him to make this right.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

The sun has long since set. Outside, through the open curtains, is a black sky. The moon, replacing the sun, takes its rightful place up high. There's wisps of greying clouds there too but it's barely visible. What's noticeable is the distinct chill in the air. There's goosebumps on her arms.

Mollie's arm is beginning to fall asleep. Against her, Ethan feels like he's leaning far more than before. His head is hanging and he's silent; not that he was talkative before. She realizes why he's so drowsy quickly. He's falling asleep.

She leaves him. Sliding out of her embrace, he barely notices that she's unnattached her arm from him. His eyes blink slowly as he lays, closing longer each time. He's shivering. His arms are covered - which is odd, considering it's sunny June - but she imagines there would be goosebumps on them, matching hers. With night comes a chilly breeze. She resolves to close the window and pull the curtains.

She yawns. She needs sleep. Watching him deep in slumber invokes a sense of jealousy. It'd feel wrong to sleep, like it was a normal day, like nothing was ever wrong. Like she was lying to herself. She supposes she needs to, though.

The future isn't clear; the path ahead is shrouded with fog. Not a single option in her mind seems right, and there's no words she can speak to make everything better. But, for tonight, she _knows_ all that matters is that they sleep. The world will still be here tomorrow.

She'll sleep on a chair tonight, she decides. Everything can be properly explained to Cal later. It'll be sorted tomorrow - the day where everything supposedly happens. Right now, they need rest. Nothing good ever happens when you're tired.

First, she needs to close that window. The floor creaks as she walks across it. As she passes a dusty drawer - or cabinet, she doesn't know, it's too dark to see properly - the clock on it reads 12:01 in a mind-meltingly green. Midnight. No wonder her eyes are burning. Her head feels like it's about to snap off, too heavy to hold up. A good night rest is necessary for her sanity.

Mollie stands by the window. Her hands rest on the windowsill. Then they lift, disgusted, because it's dirty. The whole place is dirty. She's established by now that it's unpleasant.

The outside view isn't too bad when it's dark; everything tends to look better when it's night. Even traffic looks vaguely attractive, glowing lights in darkness. Outside now, there's sleeping houses, closed shops, swaying trees and a person stood there, under a streetlight with their shadow stretching across greying slabs. Mollie looks closer.

 _Oh_.

Her phone rings when she realizes who it is. The caller ID reads Cal. From below, she can see Cal himself under a streetlight.

Mollie declines. No more phone calls. She needs to stop him before he gets started, and in person is the best way to do it.

Ethan is out of it. The floor creaking, hissing wind and blowing curtains doesn't awaken him. Neither does the shortly-lived phone chiming. Mollie passes the bed where he lays, slips out of the door, and makes her way downstairs.

People are asleep. Doors are closed, no light coming from underneath it. At reception, there's a couple sleepy people by paperwork - it reminds her of working a night shift - who barely notice her as she slips into the cold air. They're not observant staff.

She pulls her thin jacket around herself, needing the heat now more than ever. Midnight air tears through her clothes, rushing through her hair. He's right there. She stands under the streetlight with him. It's glowing amber.

Questions are piling up, but they're not voiced. Curiosity is replaced by fury, because the first sentence he says is: "I'm going to take him home, we've messed about enough."

It makes her feel useless. As if she'd achieved nothing and couldn't be trusted to - because if you want a job done right, ask _Caleb_ , not his girlfriend. "It's that easy, is it?" Poison sinks into her voice, enough to kill a man.

"I'm his brother," he says that as if it's the answer to the question; confident, the careless words sliding off of his tongue. It isn't relevant. No amount of blood ties make a difference.

She wants to say this to him now, but she's unable to grab the words floating about and work with them. There's so much to say but she can't speak it. She can't shout. She can't tie all this exhaustion turned frustration up into a knot and ignore it.

Cal is going to go up there and ruin it all; what she's achieved will be shattered. Ethan trusts her but he won't after this. The promises that were made in response to anxiously spoken questions - _"You won't call Cal?"_ \- are going to seem useless. He'll never believe a word she says again.

"I've got him to trust me. I made a promise that you wouldn't turn up."

"What's wrong with me turning up?"

"He thinks you're going to drag him home or force him," she says, "which is what you want to do. Worst fears confirmed."

"Oh, come on, I'm hardly the villain!"

"He'll see you that way if you're anything but gentle. I promise you."

Cal begins to walk. "I'll take my chances. Now what room is it?"

She stops him, out of the pool of light. "It won't work, you know."

"Well, what are you planning?" Cal questions, light on the balls of his feet. "How are you going to fix this?"

Her lips close.

"Exactly."

"He won't listen, you know." _Just_ like Cal isn't right now.

Cal looks at her - that stubborn streak, shining in his blue eyes - as they stand, stationary. That used to be somehow attractive to her, stubbornness, because everything in new relationships is. Now their relationship has aged she doesn't find it like that. Stubborness in a person is always admirable unless it's directed at you, and in that case it turns annoying. He's not listening to her and it frustrates her. She might as well be invisible, a ghost tugging at his clothes.

He releases a lungful of air in sighing form. "I've got to try." And that's that. He'll go regardless.

They take the stairs two steps at a time. Cal is visibly trembling. Any other day and she might have held his hand. She doesn't. All she wants to do is scream into a pillow.

Two floors up. There's another to go. "Room 35, is it? Next floor?"

Mollie folds her arms over her chest. Her eyelids are heavy. "Yeah." She follows him up. "How'd you find us, Cal?"

"Asked your Dad. He gave me directions. I drove."

"How did you know where-"

"I checked your laptop to find out where he lived. Took ages."

"You could've just called," she says lamely.

"You never pick up. Besides, it's not like you'd have welcomed me here with open arms. You think I'm set to ruin the progress you've made," his eyes meet hers. It feels intimate. "I'm just trying to do what's best, Mols."

They reach the outside of room, standing on the landing of the hallway. Mollie puts her hand tentatively on the door handle. Her sleepy mind registers that what Cal is about to see might be a bit of a… shock.

"Cal."

He's like a coiled spring; filled with energy, ready to bounce. It's midnight but he seems wide awake. "What?" He's fidgeting on the spot.

"Just to warn you," she says. "He's lost a lot more weight."

There's no reply. Maybe it's hit home for him again. They're not just dealing with someone who is running from their problems - that this person is too thin to be determined healthy.

Cal seems to have had all the words pulled out of him when they walk into the room. Mollie rests against the door frame, heavy and exhausted. Light from the hallway floods in.

Cal perches on the edge of the bed. Ethan is in a deep sleep, his fists in loose balls. If she had any tears left in her, she might've cried, because Cal looks heartbroken.

"You were right," he says quietly. As if he can't bear to say it. "How much do you reckon he is now?"

Mollie doesn't want to think. "Fifty kilograms, I don't…" Less. It's far less.

Cal isn't making any advances to wake Ethan. He's being deliberately quiet, voice hushed, and soft as he rests his hand on Ethan's shoulder.

Mollie is about to step forward, to ask what the plan is, when Cal moves in a motion as if he's going to _lift_ Ethan.

"What?" She breathes.

She wants to say the word over and over. Again and again. Until it runs out, until the word is meaningless.

"Oh, you're kidding me," she says when she manages to find full sentences again. "I thought it was bad enough, you forcing him back home with words, trudging back, him trusting us less than ever, but no! No, you want to virtually kidnap-"

Ca shushes her. It does the opposite of what he wants. It fills her with frustration, like air, and she's a balloon, exploding in his face.

"This is stupid! When he wakes up, well, I don't even want to know…"

"As you said, he won't listen to me," Cal arches his back - definitely not how you're meant to lift someone - and scoops Ethan up. There's no effort put into it. It's as though he's scooping butter rather than lifting a grown up into his arms. "It'll be easier to deal with when we're home."

"And _'it'_ being…?"

"Everything. Just everything."

Ethan doesn't even stir. He almost holds onto Cal, not knowing what's going on. Sleep has rendered him helpless. Deep in slumber, his eyes are closed and his loose fists don't fight Cal because he isn't aware there's anything to fight against.

There isn't. Cal is trying to do what's best, clearly - but Mollie has accustomed herself well enough to Ethan's state of mind to realize that he doesn't see going home as a good option. That going home means returning to somewhere where reality is tarnished, where he must face up to his problems.

It's obvious he's not ready yet. Cal is walking on undried cement. He's going to get stuck in the position of The Bad Brother Who Forced Me Home, unable to move forward. But he won't listen to Mollie, so she stands and watches him make a huge mistake.

"You look exhausted," Cal doesn't - he's not looking weak from holding Ethan in his arms, because there's not much weight to hold. "I'm sorry. We'll sleep soon. You can sit in the car if you want."

She doesn't know what to say. The sweetness in his words, honey in his concerned expression as he notes her exhausted one, it makes her feel less angry. Less helpless. More cared for.

But not fully. It'll take more than _that_ to sway her.

"No."

"Well," he says. "We'll need to pack. Do you mind?"

Mollie takes the hint. Whilst Cal walks down the three flights of stairs, past the sleepy receptionist staff, and heads to his parked car, she pulls out the suitcase from under the bed. There comes a point in exhaustion where you reach autopilot. She's folding clothes without even thinking about it.

A couple of warm hands on her shoulders makes her jump. That was quick.

"It's me," they rub softly.

Mollie shrugs her shoulders out of his hands. She zips the suitcase loudly, pulling it off of the bed. "Let's go, then."

Cal holds his arms out to lift it. "Shall I-"

"I can manage," she says, despite wishing she could let him. It's not that she can't carry it - it's that she doesn't want to. She's tired. He's not. But she's still mad at him. So she'll suffer with a suitcase if that's what it'll take to show that she's very unhappy with him.

Mollie opens her own door - Cal looks like he wants to play the gentleman but he's not winning her over - and slides into the car. It smells of cigarettes.

Ethan is in the back where Cal left him, his head resting on a bundle of blankets which serve as a pillow. He looks small. Cal opens the door, strapping him in. For some reason, that's what rouses him from sleep.

"Shh, shh," Cal strokes his arms, gently humming. Everything is being done to keep him asleep. Cal is desperately lulling him back into dreamworld. It's like watching a first time parent with a baby.

It's not difficult. Ethan falls asleep again. Cal's hand stays on Ethan's shoulder, unmoving, and he doesn't blink as he watches the rise and fall of his chest.

It feels like someone has reached into her ribcage and is squeezing her heart. The sight upsets her. Cal is staring as though he's looking at a stranger.

"I know," she says. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Cal doesn't reply. He doesn't spare another glance to how skinny, how _breakable,_ Ethan is now. Instead he shrugs off his jacket, laying it over Ethan, and then closes the door softly. He slides into the driver's' seat beside Mollie and starts the engine up. They don't speak for the rest of the hour long drive home.


	24. 23: Out Of Control

**Bonnie Sveen Fan** : _Hopefully he will - thank you for your review!_

 **StoryWriting1414** : _Aw I'm happy to hear that, thank you for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses** : _Haha, yeah that's definitely going to be a difficult realization. I can't imagine Cal ever planning or thinking anything through - maybe if they were planners, it would go a bit better but neither are great at that. His heart is, as always with Ethan. Aw thank you. Thank you also for your review and continued support!_

 **1\. InfinityAndOne:** _YOU ANGEL thank you for your huge review oh my god. I'm really glad you thought the first scene worked well, using first person was definitely weird as I hardly ever do it. He's just getting iller and iller… aw you always notice the details! That was definitely good that he got to speak with Ethan, even if it was hard for both of them._

 **2\. InfinityAndOne:** _He's 100 percent determined haha. Honestly, Cal is in a difficult position; he's unsure of what the right thing to do is, even if the obvious thing to do (sectioning) is staring him right in the face. Better or worse, we'll have to see the aftermath of Cal's actions. He's reaching a point of no return. God I'm happy you liked that line! Aw bless you. Thank you so so so much for both of your reviews dude!_

 _ **A/N**_ _: you might recognise some of_ _the end italics are from chapter 20 ("Plans", 17th of June), from a nightmare - that was done deliberately,_ _I'm not plagiarizing my own writing haha. It's just meant to show a nightmare coming true but that's probably obvious, just thought I'd elaborate._

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 **(1 day later) 22nd of June 2017**

It's possible to run out of tears. You wouldn't have thought it - yet, Ethan has managed it.

It's impossible to cry, and it shouldn't be: his head should be throbbing; his heart should be aching; his throat should be exploding. But it's not.

Ethan can't cry. Not at all. Not even when he finds out that he's home. Not even then.

Bitter betrayal doesn't poison him. Guilt doesn't take residence. Dread doesn't sag his shoulders. Tears don't soak into his pillow. There's sweet nothing where there should be something. Like he's falling but the impact isn't coming. Not yet.

Nothing. All he feels is nothing. This new emptiness spreads his body - a poison that grasps his old emotions and squeezes the life out of them. An injection of numbness.

 _I should be hurting. I'm not hurting._

 _I can't even cry anymore._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's 10:00. There's conversation outside of Ethan's closed door. People are awake. If he squeezes his eyes closed, perhaps he can imagine that he's back at the hotel. There's no-one there to hurt. No-one who'll hurt _him_. Not that he'd feel the stab of that anyway.

The door opens suddenly. He keeps his eyes shut childishly. They're sore. Whoever opened the door doesn't say anything: they stand; they watch over him; they sigh a couple times; and then close it again softly.

" _Still asleep."_ Mollie.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's been hours but Mollie still can't look at him, not even during breakfast. The clanging of spoons against ceramic bowls seemed to echo the flat. It was unbearably silent, so much so that she was grateful when it was over.

Neither have spoken. Not since yesterday, anyway. They're in the same flat but they feel far away.

Cal has been deep in thought for hours. So has she; the sort of pondering that has no finished result. There's no clear solution to any problem that they're facing. They just wait until Ethan wakes up, and they're both waiting for the fallout.

Mollie clears her voice. "So what now?"

Cal meets her eye. Then he can't. "I'll take care of him."

The exhausted heaving of the sigh Mollie releases is enough to tell him that she doesn't approve. They could easily argue. He could pick a fight, she'd definitely return it - but he doesn't. Cal rests back into his chair. So does Mollie, staring ahead over his shoulder. That signals the end of the conversation.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

11:02. Time is passing. Ethan can't lay there forever. It's apparent that the earth is going round, life hasn't stopped despite feeling like it has. He's still feigning sleep whenever the door opens again but the act is wearing thin.

He gets dressed. Seeing himself unclothed is never something he wants to last long and additionally, if anyone were to enter then they may be concerned by the healing gashes on his arms. That's something else that Ethan can imagine Cal crying or yelling over, and Mollie fussing about. He pulls on something with long sleeves, brushing past _them_ , and wrongly enjoys the sting.

The door opens. It's like clockwork, as if they're taking it in turns to check on him. Ethan wonders who it is.

They close the door behind them. He's trapped.

"Ethan." It's Cal this time.

The sound of his brothers voice should do something to him; it should make him feel comforted, surely. It's the same voice he's grown up with; even if it's deeper and more wounded now. It should induce _some_ sort of emotion, but it doesn't, not at all.

Ethan walks to the windowsill. Not once does he dare to look at Cal. His eyes don't focus on what's outside of the window pane either. He's seen it all before anyway. It's all familiar. There's something scary about familiarity. He can predict everything that's going to happen; because it's happened before.

Serious discussions. Tears. Black clouds.

A hand on his shoulder.

"Hey."

He turns, now facing Cal, because he has to. Ethan is not the only one who has changed. Cal looks like he hasn't slept in a month, exhaustion smudged under his eyes. Pain inside of them. They scan Ethan's body, creasing, and then they fill with palpable agony.

Despite it all, Cal smiles. He smiles as if Ethan _wants_ to be back. As if it's all fixed and the universe is unfolding the way it should be.

It's not.

It's all gone to hell. Planets are crashing and burning in clouds of ash. Stars are falling, pieces of lifeless rock smashed into homes of dead families and blood coating the walls that used to divide lands. People are screaming but they can't be heard. They're not being listened to. Their voices blend into the chaos. Worlds are colliding.

Cal moves forward, his arms around Ethan, but Ethan doesn't hug him back.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's lunchtime. By how tense Mollie and Cal seem, it's a big deal to them that it goes well; whatever _'well'_ means in this instance, anyway. Would it be a success if he managed to look at the food without gagging? If he managed to even enter the room?

They're already arguing in the kitchen. Something about missing breakfast. _Him_ missing breakfast, presumably. They shut up when they see him looking over.

24 hours and he already wants to go home, despite not knowing where that is.

Mollie sits beside him. The person who betrayed him. Who sat there, all 'sweetheart' and 'darlings', sweetness and honey, and dared to tell him that it'd all be okay. That she was on his side, making promises that she was plotting in her head to break whilst she was speaking them.

It was unnecessary. That's what would irk him if he wasn't numbed. The fact that she lied pointlessly about shit she was going to anyway - that she wouldn't call Cal when she did, she even waited until he was asleep to! Sneaky. People are full of surprises. And, usually, they're surprises for a reason; if Ethan had've known her intent was to lie, he would never have let her in. He was stupid to trust her and to even listen to a word that she spoke. They were rotting with dishonesty.

"Lunch."

That jerks him from his head. Cal puts the plates down. His eyes meet Ethans. He continues.

"Since you missed breakfast, it's, uh.. Bigger. But it's not a big deal. Just food, right?"

It's the hugest deal. But Cal wouldn't get that.

"Caleb," Mollie says. "I think it'd be better if we spoke-" she cuts herself off. Even she knows it's pointless.

Cal pulls out his chair. "We're having a meal. No conversations. Right, Ethan? You don't want to talk? That's fine," how dare he pretend as though he's on Ethan's side, how dare either of them do that. "Let's just eat."

Again, she tries. _Pointlessly_. "You're not listening to me," says Mollie. Ethan would laugh if it was even remotely funny. _Get used to it, Mollie, it'll be amazing if Cal ever listens._

"Mols," says Cal, "it's all fine."

"I'm concerned-"

"And I'm handling it."

"How?" Mollie demands, with such vigour that it almost cuts into the tablecloth that she's gripping. And here we go. "Oh, right, of course, by shoving him full of food. Because that's sensible, right? It's not like his stomach might've shrunk, it's not like there's a possibility of refeeding syndrome, no, nothing at all? It's all good?" She shouts the last word.

Ethan stands up, and they both look at him. It's like they'd forgotten he was there. He supposes that's easy to do. Since childhood, he's been a forgettable person - someone who just fills up the space.

Croakily, he says, "I'm… okay." And then that's it. They watch as if expecting him to elaborate but he does not. That's all there is to it. He sits back down. Silence.

He must be okay. If he wasn't, he'd be hysterical - crying and sobbing. He isn't. He simply isn't anything.

"You are not okay," Mollie says, her eyes shining. "You are not at _all_ , and that's what you're _not_ dealing with. Do you feel happy?" He doesn't feel anything at all. "No, you don't. We can get you help so that you're fine, so that you wake up every morning with strength! Trust me-" oh, jesus, no. "We can make you feel okay again." She's trying to convince him - to make this his _own_ choice. But he would never choose this.

Ethan remains in his chair. The other two are now standing, towering above him. People say that words are inexhaustible but he can't put enough together to describe everything. Because he knows that it won't be as simple as Mollie puts it.

Time. That's what he needs. He'll glue himself back together with time. No help is needed.

"I don't even know if there's a stage where you'll be unable to eat. I don't know enough," she says. "But I know you're getting close to a point of no return, Eth, and I don't want to watch."

He can eat!

Cal looks in turmoil. It's obvious that he's caught between a sharp rock and a hard place.

"I thought it'd be easier," Cal says lamely. "I didn't think…"

"You thought it wasn't that bad. That he'd eat eventually."

If you squint, you can see Cal nodding with his last snatches of strength. "Yeah," he breathes, and then falls back into his seat. "God…"

"Maybe we were both wrong. There is no right way to do this," Mollie says in attempt to soothe him. "I wanted to wait it out, to see if he'd eventually admit to needing help. Looking at him now, time isn't on our side. I think it's good that he's finally home, even if it meant you showing up and taking him back…" her words melt into nothing. She's still talking to Cal, but Ethan isn't listening.

It makes sense now. It was _Cal_. Mollie never lied.

But it doesn't matter! It doesn't, it makes not an ounce of difference who did what.

It's _them_. They're the problem. They think they know best - oh, this is what's best for _him_ , you made the wrong choice, this is what we need to do for _him…_ all the while, pretending that they're on his side, when they forget he's in the room. Ethan watches them, both in turmoil, as they're trying to decide 'what's best for Ethan'.

He knows he's not normal. But he can't see a problem with what he's doing.

If it makes him feel better, what's the harm?

"Ethan," it shakes him, Cal's firm voice.

He's going to ask him to eat.

"Why don't you want to eat?"

Oh. That's worse.

Ethan opens his mouth but no words come out. Nothing enters his brain. There's no explanation for why, one day, food was tainted with fear and bad thoughts.

 _It makes me feel better._

 _When I eat, it feels like failure._

 _Nothing ever goes right. This is all that works._

 _It's all I'm good at._

 _I can't explain; you'll never understand anyway._

Instead, he says: "I can eat." One of the few sentences he's said in the last couple of hours and it's a downright lie.

They don't seem to believe that. They sit, slumped, exchanging glances with creased foreheads, like they've aged decades in seconds.

Perhaps he doesn't either. The sight of the plates on the table isn't a good one. He doubts he'll manage a mouthful.

But he's hungry - really _fucking_ hungry. He's not superhuman. Of course he gets hungry. It's the tormentor. The great addictive high.

Looking down at the food in front of him, he wonders if he really can eat. Does he want to? Will he regret it if he does?

Something, he's not sure what it is or why, tells him to. That he needs it.

"There's a lot there. To be safe, I'll get you something small," Mollie says, as if he's going to eat, but doesn't make any advances to move to get anything. Like she expects him to stop her, maybe - no, that's exactly what she expects.

She thinks she knows his every thought. Maybe she does. Perhaps he is predictable.

But not even he predicts his next move. With a million conflicting thoughts, he eats. And he eats a lot.

 _Careless shoving, chewing, swallowing, the same process repeating endlessly. With every mouthful, it seems like he grows more._

"Ethan."

Keep eating. He keeps eating. It's filling his stomach. Each mouthful is chewed and swallowed in record time, each quicker than the last. It tastes like regret and potatoes. Mollie stands up.

 _His mind is hyper-aware of the fat attached to his body - the multiplying fat. It's like he's an ever-growing balloon._

Is he dreaming? Is this reality? It's never been this lucid before. Cal is talking, telling him to stop, you've made your point, calm down, and Mollie is barely able to watch. Ethan should be crying. Panicking. He's not feeling either. He can't feel what he should be.

 _The seams of his clothes are ripping. Buttons are holding on by a loose thread. He can't even breathe, suffocated by... himself. He's eating so much he can't take in a breath._

He can vaguely hear rain pattering against the window panes, but all he can see is blurring edges. Food. Shaking hands. Then his stomach is churning and he's going to vomit, he's coughing, he's...

 _Calories are quickly transforming into stones which build him up._

The chair screeches as he pushes out of it. Like he does so often, he runs. His legs want to buckle. They manage to get him far away. Footsteps follow him but he shuts them out. He slams the door and then he's vomiting before he makes the decision to. It's unable to be controlled.

Just then, he feels something - he's frightened. Fearful of _himself_.

 _Stop! Stop!_

 _But he can't._


	25. 24: Angry Tears

**20BlueRoses:** _Aw thank you! It's gotten to an awful point. A turning point is definitely what he needs, there's no easy path though as you said so it's a really tricky journey. Ah that's so sweet of you to say - thank you for your review!_

 **casfics:** _Sorry to your heart! Definitely, he's not finding life easy in the slightest. Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _I am actually so flattered you got goosebumps haha! You've got it perfectly, yeah, it broke through that emotional brick wall and hit him hard. Realism is hard to do so I'm glad you think it's good! Help really needs to come soon but it's all happening so slowly... thank you for your loveliness and review!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 _They're going to kill me._

 _I'm going to be sent to hospital._

 _We're going to argue but I don't want to anymore._

When the vomit runs out and they rush in, he expects a fight. Shouting. Sobbing.

But there isn't anything.

They don't talk about it. Nobody even brings it up. It's not used as ammunition, it's not made into a venue of worried and unwanted conversation, they don't ask _why_ ; it's simply tied up into a knot and left. The aftermath is dealt with, and silently.

The only immediate consequence is that Ethan feels ill for a long time, right in his stomach. It doesn't go away. Mollie sits with him in the bathroom, letting him rest his head on her lap as their legs go cold on the floor. As his legs go numb, he does too. Her arm strokes him ceaselessly, shushing him like he's crying when he's not. They do that whilst Cal scrapes plates off and slams cupboard doors closed in the kitchen next door.

After, he goes to sleep. He hears them talk. One of them is upset. Ethan isn't, despite thinking he would be when he was alone. Instead he stays awake until early morning, his eyes burning, until his stomach squeezes.

His knees freeze on the bathroom tiles. He keeps throwing up, again and again, until his throat feels like it's lined with sandpaper.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(2 days later) 24th of June 2017**

Once, he ate yoghurt. So Mollie buys him lots of it.

Anything that even vaguely resembles the taste or look of yoghurt, she drops into the basket. They spend too much time in the dairy aisle. Greek style, vanilla, fruit, chocolate and rice, she chooses a vast range.

He fixes a look of disgust onto his face at the growing collection.

"Come on," she says, dropping a vanilla one into the basket. "It's just food."

 _Just_. There is no _just_.

She seems to regret that, because she puts her arm around him and gives him a tight squeeze. They go back to shopping without incident. Ethan watches her, following around her as though he's a child. She could've left him home, but that'd mean he'd be with Cal. And Cal isn't too pleased with him right now. Ethan isn't too far gone to know that.

"Milk," Mollie says, her eyes lifting from the messily scrawled shopping list. "You mind grabbing a couple?"

Wordlessly - words aren't something he likes to dish out often anymore - he does as she says. It's only a couple steps away from her, next to the milkshakes and the custard, but she still watches his every move. She always keeps a close eye on him. Like a mother. Or, more fittingly, a sister. He's not sure if it makes him feel like less of an adult or more cared about. There's two perspectives there.

They pass the cheese aisle. _Ugh_ , he thinks. _Cheese used to be my favourite._

They pay soon after. It's a Saturday, so the queue is long, but Mollie fills the silence. She talks as she loads the belt up, seemingly unaware that he's letting each word fade into white noise. He's grateful she tries. Truly. But speaking seems tiring so he doesn't bother.

At some point, she leaves him by the tills - he expects her to ask the cashier to keep an eye on him, in case he bolts, but she doesn't - and comes back with far too many onion based snacks.

"I've got a craving," she says, seeming like she expects him to understand that. Ethan nods, as if giving into his cravings is something that he does.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(1 day later) 25th of June 2017**

There are no guidelines on how to behave. No how-to manual. Cal has no idea what to do because this hasn't been taught to him. Nobody ever offers you advice on what to do if your brother won't eat. He supposes it doesn't happen often - or perhaps it does and nobody sheds light. Regardless, there's no clear direction on where to go. It's like the roads ahead are shrouded in fog.

One yoghurt. That's what he'll have a day if it's a good day. A 'good day' is defined by him actually moving from the spot on the sofa he seems to have claimed as his own. He'll usually sit there, curled with his head low, reading one of the many books that Mollie gives him.

"You're an enabler," Cal had said to Mollie the other day, when Ethan was pretending to be too fixated on his book to even try breakfast. "You're making it easy for him to slip into another world when he needs to be focused on this one."

Mollie's answer was, "They're books, I'm hardly giving an addict needles," and then left it.

She doesn't get it. That's the problem. Cal has been here before, what with his mother and various patients. It's difficult when it's so close to home. With each day that passes, he sees Mollie treat Ethan like he's a younger sibling. He supposes that's good. But it does mean that he's losing Ethan in result; which is one of the worst possible outcomes.

Cal watches as Ethan reads, the room lit up with an orange hue from a tall lamp. The pages shadow his face, words reflected on his glasses.

"I've made dinner," Cal says helplessly. But he may as well be invisible because Ethan just keeps reading on.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(4 days later) 29th of June 2017**

Mollie is good at UNO. _Very_ good, in fact. So good that she hasn't lost yet, not even once.

They're sitting, cross legged on the floor as the sun sets outside, playing another round. Ethan is glad he suggested this now (it felt weird, talking, when he'd been silent for a while). She's been distracted all day. He'd expecting her to say no, but wanting to ask because she'd been pointlessly walking about. Immediately, she'd said yes. It had cheered her right up.

Mollie notices the yawn he tries to hide. "Tired?"

Stubbornly, he shakes his head. He takes the cards and shuffles them. They play again - best of five - and she wins again.

They're starting again when someone sticks a key into the door. It opens roughly. The atmosphere seems to desaturate. The door swings closed again, wind whistling. Cal limps in and drops shopping bags onto the counter. He pants with the weight of it.

"Want a hand?" Mollie calls.

"I've got it," Cal says, groaning again as he lifts them.

Mollie turns back to Ethan. "Right. Best of three, because _I'm_ tired."

Ethan hopes this game will last forever. He's not in the mood for sleeping. The nightmares are increasing. Nodding, he shuffles the cards and counts them out in his head, sliding them across the floor to her. They start again.

Mollie had all the reds. That's what Ethan needed. He was stuck with the blues.

Cal slumps against the sofa, on the floor with them. He peers over at Mollie's cards and tuts. "You're in trouble, Ethan."

He was right - isn't _that_ a change - because Mollie wins. Then again. And the last round, too. She grins, pleased with herself, and Ethan grins too, despite not being happy. Everything considered, it's a good night.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(1 day later) 30th of June 2017**

His alarm clock reads seven. Usually, this is the time that Ethan would be dragging Cal out of bed. It hasn't been that way for months. Cal knows he'll be the one attempting to wake his brother, but it'll be pointless because Ethan will be staring at the ceiling til it's no longer the morning.

Cal flattens it with his hand when it starts to beep. _Not today, you royal pain in the ass_. Too late. The beeping has already drilled into his brain.

Mollie is already awake. She's on her laptop, legs bare and being used as a counter to rest it on. Her hair is unbrushed, her eyes fixed on the screen.

"What're you doing?"

She's hesitant, and Cal realises why after she says it. "Looking at meal plans."

Cal feels the weight of the world crashing down on him. There's always a couple minutes of peace before he _remembers_ , and before it crushes him. "Anything?"

"I need to know his weight before-"

"Yeah. I know. But he won't…"

Mollie closes her laptop lid slowly. "That _is_ a problem."

If Ethan heard that, he'd interpret as her saying that he was a problem. Ethan could be stupid like that.

"Don't worry." He closes his eyes, wrapping the sheet around him. "I'll sort it."

"Yeah." Her voice is so weak that he looks up at her properly. She's pale, lips white. Cal drags himself up, concerned.

"You look unwell…"

"Just a bit ill. I think I'm sickening with a cold."

Cal thinks it's an odd time to get a cold, but he nods, watching her face a bit more. "Have you been sick?"

Mollie bobs her head. Cal sighs. He opens his mouth to speak again, but he hears the buzzer go off instead.

"What the-"

"It's way too early," Cal slides under the duvet. It keeps buzzing.

"I'm not answering the door dressed like this," it pops back up in his memory that she's barely clothed, and then he realizes he's not sure he wants her to either. Not if she's ill too.

He pulls himself up, passing through the flat, trudging to the buzzer. Ethan's door hasn't even opened a crack. Maybe he slept through it.

"What?"

There's a crackly voice. "It's me." Charlie.

"Charlie," it feels like boiling hot water is falling from the ceiling, drenching him. _Damnit_. This wasn't meant to happen. "Sorry, uh-"

"Just checking in. Look, I don't have any keys. They won't let me in."

Cal's neighbours can be paranoid. Sometimes they refuse to let him into the complex until he reminds them that he actually _lives_ there. "Maybe it's best you come later."

"It's raining! You wouldn't leave an old man out in the rain, will you?"

Cal supposes that is rude. "Alright. Come up. Just tell them you know me."

As soon as the sound of rain pattering from outside - it's June, but England can't be bothered with doing summer - and the buzzer crackling disappears, Cal realizes what he's just done.

But it's fine, right? Charlie is just coming for a chat. Cal hasn't had any shifts since Connie took him off of them. He's likely concerned.

 _Except he doesn't know about Ethan. And I was meant to tell Connie._

Cal accepts the fact that he's going to be slaughtered - and likely drown in his own guilt too - and awaits Charlie to come in. Nobody else comes from their rooms in the meantime. The flat is still, until there's a short knock and Cal realizes he probably should've unlocked the door prior.

"Morning."

"Morning," Cal says lightly, as if he's not mentally thinking over every way he can get Charlie out. He's standing in the way of the door. It's only prolonging the inevitable.

Awkwardly, Charlie peers through. "Could I come in?"

Cal holds the door firmly in his hand to avoid it being pushed. "Mollie's asleep," he says, but he hears the lack of conviction in his own voice and it deepens the suspicion on Charlie's brow.

"I'll be quiet." Charlie eyes Cal up and down, as if hoping to see the lies written on his clothes.

Eventually, Cal has no choice. He stands aside, letting him in, and lets the sinking hot guilt of his previous lies burn into his stomach.

It turns out, of course, Charlie came round for a small chat. It's kind enough. Cal says yes at all the right times, nods, and is careful to make small comments in reference to the conversation, just so Charlie knows he's listening. All the while, he's giving small glances to Ethan's door, and for the first time in a while, he's willing him _not_ to come in.

Mollie does eventually. She's dressed now with her hair down. It's grown longer in recent months to become waist length. Somehow, she resists the urge to fiddle with the ends - if Cal had long hair, that's what he'd do to try and battle this anxiety - and joins in.

"You haven't been working," Charlie says to them both. "I heard Connie gave you time off."

Cal nods too enthusiastically. "Yeah, she did. Thought it'd be… best."

"How long is that going to go on for?"

"Not long."

"I know that it's important to let yourself hurt, Cal," Charlie says in one of those voices, "but you can't put your life on hold just because-"

"I'm not," he says it far rougher than necessary. He notices Mollie glare at him from the corner of his eye.

Charlie isn't put-out by it. "I understand that it's difficult. Did Connie ever mention filing a missing person report?"

She did. Numerous times. Just like it did each time Connie brought it up, hot panic seizes him, sweat accumulating between his shoulder blades. "I think it's too soon." _No point in trying to locate a person who's already been found._

"It's been a month. Almost a month and a week."

"Not that long."

" _Cal_."

"I've left in the past for much longer than that!"

"You've been doing that from childhood. Running away is something that isn't new. This is Ethan. He doesn't do this. It's out of character."

"Yeah, well. Everything Ethan does is out of character now."

Charlie doesn't say anything to that. They sit in a stony cold silence. Eventually, Cal feels stupid for being so standoffish.

"I know you're just trying to help..."

"It's fine, Cal," Charlie says. He gets the apology before it's even spoken. "You're frustrated and tired. If I was in your position, I'd be the same."

Cal is sure Charlie wouldn't be - a lifetime of misfortune and somehow he bounces back every time - but he feels grateful for the sentiment. "Do you want a drink?" A drink isn't a lot, but Charlie seems to take it as a welcome, which is what it was intended to be. A welcome out of guilt.

"Bit early for a pint, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I was thinking more a coffee," Cal stands, "but now you mention it…"

Mollie butts in, tutting, walking to the kettle. "I don't _think_ so."

They continue a morning routine as if Charlie fits right into it. Mollie sits with breakfast and her phone, Cal pushes himself onto the unit and Charlie washes up, like it's his place. Somehow, it feels more normal than it has recently.

When he's here, Cal feels lighter. Better. And when Charlie leaves, he feels the same.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Mollie is looking at him. She's been giving him that same look all morning since Charlie left, her hand resting on her stomach.

She's looking guilty; as guilty as he felt earlier. As he dries the dishes that Charlie had washed, he waits for her to start the conversation. There's no point in asking her what's wrong. She'll say when she's ready.

"Cal."

Like now. His heart leaps into his throat. "Yep?"

"I, uh. I've got to tell you something."

Cal feels his pulse quickening, nodding. Mollie's lips part, but they clamp together again. He's wondering why the sudden change happened until he hears soft footsteps.

"Morning," Cal says to Ethan, who looks at him through smudged glasses.

Ethan doesn't reply - unless nodding, _barely_ , counts - and pours himself a drink.

Cal wants him to go. Mollie isn't going to spill until they're alone.

"You look tired, how about you go back to bed?"

Ethan looks at Cal for a couple seconds, then turns back to his water.

"Or you could have breakfast."

It was cruel. Undeniably cruel. Cal notices the panic in Ethan's eyes - and feels awful because he knows he caused it - which sticks out amongst the resounding emotionlessness on his face, but is relieved when Ethan begins walking off.

He turns back to Mollie, lips parted, but she gets the first word in.

"That wasn't nice."

"It was a valid-"

"No, it was a way of getting him out, Caleb."

"It's not my fault he's… scared of food. It was a perfectly normal thing to say at _breakfast time_."

Mollie's arms cross over her chest. "I know. But he is scared of it, so don't make comments like that with the pure intent on frightening him."

"I could give him a glass of squash and he'd be terrified," Cal says carelessly. "He's not right-" he taps his head, "-up here at the moment."

She rolls her eyes back. Then she's looking beside him, her face whitening, and she's talking. "No, no, he didn't mean it like that, honey."

Cal spins. "Eth." Shit. They never heard the door close. Ethan was around that whole time - he'd heard the whole conversation. Shit, _shit_. "I didn't…"

And then Ethan actually talks, words hissed through gritted teeth. "You _asshole_." It's the most un-Ethan-ish thing he could've said.

"Alright. I'm an asshole." Cal says. "I'm a sorry asshole, though. Does that count for anything?"

The furious head shake clearly means no, that it's a drop in the ocean.

"C'mon. I just meant that you're not doing good, and…" he's making it worse. Ten points for Caleb.

"I'm doing fine," he says.

Every inch of frustration that Cal has felt in this last month is coming out now. "Sure you are," Cal says, tone bitter before he can even try and sweeten it just to keep the peace.

"I am!"

"That's why you starve yourself, then, because you're _fine_?" The words weren't spoken; more spat.

He regrets it immediately.

"Shit, I…"

"Yeah." Ethan turns his back on his brother. " _Shit_."

"I'm sorry for being frustrated." When Ethan doesn't reply, more annoyance bubbles up inside of him. "Hey. Don't you start that Martyr complex, you're not the innocent one here."

Ethan spins round. "What's that meant to mean?"

"You've messed up just as much as I have!" Arguments. Losing Lily as a friend. More arguments. Running to the hotel. Cal knows it's something else pulling the strings - that Ethan is struggling with something and it's taking him over - but he's angry. So frustrated, so tired… "I'm not the only one who's done wrong but at least I apologise."

"Yeah, well," Ethan says, jabbing his head with a finger roughly. "Guess I've got the excuse of not being right up there, haven't I?"

"I said, I didn't mean it like that!"

Mollie is stood on the sidelines, burying her head in her hands.

Ethan is speaking like he can't stop; like he's pouring everything out because it's his last chance of speaking with ears listening. "You mean it like I'm fragile. Pathetic, struggling… like I'm a burden who can't stand on their own two feet."

Cal throws his hands up in the air. "No, you can't stand on your own two feet - you keep passing out!"

There's a few beats of silence. Ethan breathes raggedly; and then he goes for Cal.

Mollie shouts at them to stop it, her voice raising to the brink of hysterically, but neither listens. Cal has been here before. He knows that Ethan can only last so long; and with his weakened body, he'll last even less time than before. He holds him by the shoulders, blocking each punch, feeling the dull ache of slaps, his ears ringing.

He doesn't want to hurt him. "Ethan, stop it." It's a warning and it goes unheard.

The punches don't cease. They punctuate every sentence. "I hate you. I hate you!"

There's angry tears. They're dribbling down Ethan's cheeks, his breath coming out in short gasps. It's this which has gotten him feeling something, clearly, when he hasn't _really_ reacted to anything in a while. Cal is the punchbag for Ethan's anger. He feels the sting of scratches and kicks in the shins, knowing it'll bruise, but doesn't care.

He keeps pushing Ethan back, warning him repeatedly. Each shove he does harder. Ethan is weakening. The aggression is disappearing as each second passes. He's shouting at Cal, saying he hates him, so much, that he's okay, really, and even if he isn't then what is Cal gonna do about it. _Nothing_.

He hits and punches until Cal grasps his sleeved wrists, holding him, and they sink down the back of the sofa.

Ethan is sobbing, like he's lost all control. "You annoy me so much. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you…" he hiccups.

"You can hate me now. You don't have to like me. Just…" he lifts Ethan's chin, meeting his eyes. "Breathe. Calm down, okay?"

"I h-hate you."

"I know you do. Hate me all you want."

Ethan lets out a rough sob, wrenching his wrists out of his grasp and giving Cal another token hit, but it's lacking of any force. It doesn't hurt at all.

Cal holds Ethan's shoulders, their sides resting against the sofa back as they're sat on that cold floor. Cal watches the tears, how the anger dissolves, and sees them disappear. Ethan eventually gives in altogether with his weak wriggling. The 'I hate you's stop. Everything stops.

"It's gonna be alright," Cal tells him. Ethan takes in sharp sips of air. "It's going to be _okay_."

He's lost now. Ethan doesn't look like he's heard. Cal keeps his hands on him. They're breathing raggedly, exhausted and weak, developing bruises on their bodies starting to ache.

When he remembers Mollie is there, he turns to look whilst Ethan sits trembling. She looks emotionless. She looks like she's _done_.

"This," Mollie says, her voice unsteady, "has got to stop."


	26. 25: Aftermath

**InfinityAndOne:** _Help is desperately needed, it's been long enough! Aw! It definitely marks SOME sort of change, yes, god it so will. Ahh thank you for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses:** __ _Aw my god thank you! Really happy it is, that scene was so fun to write despite its difficult content. That's exactly it, yeah! Hehe :D Am excited to write it! (Haha hopefully) thank you for your review!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _You're the first of two to predict that :) He really could. He definitely needs to go somewhere and that'll be happening soon, as they really can't go on anymore this way. Thank you for your review!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(1 day later) 1st of July 2018**

Mollie leaves the next day. Ethan has to work it out on his own because Cal is too devastated to tell him.

The loss of her is obvious. The missing possessions, her coat gone from the rack and lack of her flowery perfume lingering about the house is evidence that she's taken herself away, leaving no trace that she was ever there. She's even taken the vanilla that she used to put behind her ears to make her smell nice. She's taken the lot.

As the sun rises, he looks over every room, longing to find evidence of her existence. The most he finds is a comb with her hair between the teeth. She had lovely hair. It was long and feathery.

He holds it in his hands. He can't stop thinking about this. Whatever contributed into her decision to break-up with Cal, she'd left them both in the process. It was done with immediate effect, too, like she'd been considering it for a while. There was no deciding or pondering left to be done, only actions to be made. Saying that, Mollie isn't - and never was - a good planner. Maybe it was a spur of the moment decision. She might be regretting it right this moment.

If she is, she doesn't call.

Ethan finds a note dedicated to him that afternoon - the only thing she'd left, crumpled on the table - when he gets up to make Cal a cup of tea. It's just for him, from Mollie - there's not one for Cal. It's obvious she wanted to spare him the pain of finding another written farewell.

 _This isn't anyone's fault. I have reasons for leaving that I can't tell you. Reasons that I can't quite come to terms with yet. I need to clear my head. Take care, okay? If you need me I'm still here. I'll be back one day._

It raises more questions than it answers, but as he's thinking detachedly over it, the kettle grumbles in signal that it's done.

One tea. He's not even sure why he's making one. Maybe he feels sympathetic for Cal. Maybe he's trying to keep himself busy. Mollie's loss feels big. It doesn't feel like going back to last year - it feels entirely wrong but he doesn't allow himself any time to accustom to it.

Nothing is going right. Even more so when he's involved. Mollie is gone. Cal hates him.

 _It's all your fault._

Without thinking straight, Ethan picks up the teaspoon - it's boiling from standing in the drink - and presses it into his palm.

It's so hot that it feels sharp. Like needles pricking him. He hisses. There's relief when it hurts, and additional relief when the pain fades away. No mark is left. No trace. He does it a couple more times. Red ovals are left.

It's been days since he's hurt himself. The streak is broken now; but his skin isn't, so perhaps it doesn't count. Maybe. It's not like it matters anyway. Ethan drops the spoon and wishes the water was still hot enough for it to burn _just_ enough.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan had expected Cal to be angry at him, but he wasn't. He'd expected himself to be angry at Cal too, but he wasn't either. Yesterday is a minor blip, evidently.

When he comes in shyly, Cal says thank you for the cup of tea. He pats his bed to invite Ethan to sit on it. Cal is still in yesterday's' clothes, his face looking blotchy, but he keeps on doing these lopsided fake smiles which Ethan can see the sadness behind.

"Are you okay?"

Ethan nods, untrusting himself to speak. He doesn't think he's going to cry, but with Cal being so nice when he surely doesn't deserve that, he can't be too sure. He looks at Cal, trying to ask him if he's okay but he just can't find the words.

"Don't worry," Cal says, leant against the headboard. "I'm fine."

He sits and waits for Cal to admit that he's not, but he doesn't. It doesn't matter though. He's always seen right through the stretches of truth, knowing Cal's unsteady relationship with honesty.

They don't speak for a second. In the silence, Cal pulls his own sleeve, itching his fingers on his arm, and that's when Ethan sees.

There's a long red scratch along Cal's bicep. Ethan's heart leaps - _I can do that to myself, but you can't, please don't_ \- until he realizes. And his silence breaks.

"I did that to you, didn't I?"

Cal looks at where Ethan's eyes are glued to. "It's just a scratch."

"Are there any more?"

Cal looks hesitant. "No." If the pause between the question and answer wasn't enough to make Ethan doubt the honesty of that, the lack of conviction in his voice overall tops it all off. There are more, then. Ethan hurt him a lot.

Ethan feels guilt claw at him, wishing it'd open its big jaws and swallow him alive. He did that to his brother. He hurt him and made him ache, physically this time. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Did I hurt you?"

Ethan knows he has a couple bruises from Cal but it was all in self defence. It's Ethan's own fault. "No," he lies. "Does it still hurt?"

"A bit," Cal says. "Just… aching. I want to know why you did it, Ethan. You just suddenly melted down."

"I wasn't thinking right," Ethan's voice quietens. "As you said. Not right in the head."

Cal shakes his head. "Shut up, Ethan. I don't want to hear you say that about yourself."

Ethan does as he's told. The scratch is now hidden by Cal's sleeve, but Ethan can picture more. The bruises, the everything. He can imagine how they'll go purple to blue to green to yellow. Ethan thinks about them until he's sure he's seen them himself, guilt biting his flesh because it's killing him in its own special way. Slowly. Like he deserves.

He wants to keep apologising, over and over, until the words lose meaning, but the only words he manages aren't about the injuries at all. "Do you miss her?"

Cal doesn't look like he's going to reply for a minute. He does eventually. "A lot."

Ethan should've asked if he needs air to breathe. He'd have gotten as equally as obvious answer. He's curious, so he keeps asking questions while Cal is still talking to him. "Did you argue?"

"Actually, _no_. Not yesterday night."

Ethan's forehead creases. "Oh."

"I'd had enough of fighting by the time you were done," Cal says, laughing shallowly, but it only makes Ethan feel worse. "Bad joke."

Ethan brushes over it. If there's anything they have in common, it's dealing with bad situations in not-so-great ways. Joking works. It helps.

"So… she just walked out?" Ethan finds himself asking.

"She was there when I was asleep, gone when I woke up."

"That's horrible."

"It's alright."

"It's _not_."

Cal shrugs. He looks at his knees, then at Ethan. "You know what's weird? Last night, she sorted the blood out. She gave me ice packs for the bruises. She said sorry when it stung and gave me a kiss on the head. I fell asleep with her hugging me closer than she has done in weeks."

Ethan watches Cal, seeing the tears grow in his big brother's eyes, and looks away.

"I felt so loved." Cal looks down at his hands. "And then I was alone. Like last night never happened."

"Maybe she was saying goodbye."

"Yeah. Maybe. Her saying she was done didn't ring any alarm bells for me even though it should've. But the way she treated me after, it was like everything was fine. If it was fine, then goodbyes weren't necessary."

Ethan looks down. He can't think of a comfort, because there is none. Something bad has happened. Cal is now single.

Instead, Ethan focuses on the only thing he can fix. "I really am sorry, Cal. For hurting you so badly." He means in more ways than one.

"It's fine. Really." Cal says. "But do it again and we'll have to invest in a good punch bag."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

They go for a walk afterwards. Both of them needed the air. After you spend so long inside, you tend to forget that there's life beyond the walls you pace.

They choose the beach. It's the only place that isn't tainted with Mollie. The waves churn, rolling over the golden sand. A warm breeze wrinkles their clothes, salt sinking into the fabric, and the sun presses softly above them as it heats the ground they walk over. There's children and adults, some sunbathing, others knee-deep in the sea with jeans rolled up. It looks fun. Ethan and Cal feel better, but not better _enough_ to have fun.

It felt good to clear the air earlier. Ethan is glad he went in to see him. As much as staying silent can be easier - there's far less chance of saying anything you'll regret - it's good to speak once in a while. Words get trapped otherwise.

Cal kicks a stone across the ground. He keeps on doing that. "Where'd we go wrong, huh?"

Ethan presumes he means with Mollie. He wishes someone else was here, someone who'd know exactly what to say to make this less difficult.

"It was fine. Better than fine. It was the only relationship that went right."

"You'll find someone else," he says, without thinking over the sentence.

" _Someone_ _else_ isn't Mollie."

Ethan decides that anything else he says will be wrong to, so he keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. There's tiny stones on the path and grains of sand, bought from people's shoes. A couple of wet footprints are fading too.

Eventually, he says what he probably should've said before anything else. "I'm sorry about Mollie."

"It's okay, Eth. Girls come and go, I suppose."

He nods, like he feels the same. Like he's actually been in a relationship in the last, what, six months? Longer. Though Ethan can't help but be glad he's partnerless. Sometimes it feels like every relationship will end the same, just like Cal's did. Broken, but you can't see where it shattered. It just _does_ and maybe you'll never know why it failed so hard.

Cal clears his throat. "So what's going on with you?"

Ethan's stomach squeezes. "Nothing." _Not today._

"Why have you been so upset?"

Ethan sighs. He wants to go back to talking over Cal's heartbreak. The pain will be lessened in time and less glaring the more they talk. "Can we not?"

"Why? Because you don't want to hurt me? Maybe there's something good about Mollie leaving. My heart is broken enough."

"Hearts can break twice."

" _Hey_." Cal says. "I can handle it."

Ethan doesn't believe that. The mess going on with himself is unexplainable. Every time he thinks he could talk about it, it becomes clear he can't. The words won't come. He wouldn't know where to start with it all anyway. Nothing is truly wrong. It's just that nothing is truly right either.

Why'd he end up like this?

"Don't cry, don't cry."

"I _wasn't_ crying," Ethan says indignantly. "Would that embarrass you?"

"No. I wouldn't care. I've seen you cry," it's obvious they're both thinking of the same occurence, just yesterday, and there's a beat of remembering silence. Ethan swallows, annoyed at past him for showing such weakness. "I don't like to see it but sometimes you just can't help it."

Ethan looks at the ground. The sun is making him burn. "Can I ask you something random?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Why did you kidnap me?"

Cal's lips rise into an amused smile at 'kidnap'. It fades quickly. "The obvious reason. I wanted you home. I didn't think you'd listen to gentle persuasion."

"I thought it was Mollie who planned it, at the start."

"Nah. She was dead against me 'kidnapping' you. Wouldn't speak to me for the whole ride back."

Ethan deliberates on this. "I was really mad at you for that after a while. Even though you were just trying to help, you tend to do things in the most infuriating way."

Cal laughs. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard that from you before." He turns to Ethan as they walk, more serious this time. "You didn't show you were mad at first. You just switched off."

Ethan doesn't know what to say so he just walks on.

"I get that maybe you just bottled all the anger and annoyance up. All of it. And it came out in a big storm yesterday."

"Maybe."

"What else was up? Were you just annoyed at me or upset at me too?"

"I wasn't _anything_ ," Ethan says truthfully. Cal seems like he wants an elaboration - even though he must've guessed that Ethan is numb the majority of the time towards - so he changes the subject. It's an uncomfortable situation. "It's hot. Can we head home?"

"If you want."

They walk back along the path. It takes a good fifteen minutes, the sun pressing heavily onto their backs. Some people walk shirtless, red sunburn on their shoulders. Cal winces as someone passes by with an especially painful looking one and Ethan sighs in some sort of agreement. At least they can agree on something. Sunburns suck; the same way this situation sucks.

When they get back to the car, Ethan pulls the passenger side door open. Cal does the same but he stays standing for a bit, hand hovering on the burning metal.

"You can tell me, you know. What's going on." Cal says. "What's been going on for the past few months. Year, even. We do need to talk about it. It's serious."

Mutely Ethan shrugs, which is, by far, the stupidest response he could've given. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, wishing to be home and behind closed doors.

"You just won't tell me?"

He shakes his head this time.

"Oh, Ethan," Cal says, exhaling as he climbs into the car, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 _I don't know what I'm going to do with you._

Ethan doesn't stop thinking on that for the whole car ride back. It echoes in his brain. Neither say anymore, so that's the last sentence that was spoken, making it even harder to ignore. Cal switches the radio on but it becomes white noise quickly.

They go their separate ways when they're home. Cal watches day time television. Ethan pointlessly walks the halls. Outside, there was life. Now there's nothing but hung up photographs, reminding him that once they were both happy. _Once_. Ethan notices that one of Cal and Mollie has been taken down and laid face down on the counter. He gets out of the room quickly.

The bathroom is so bare that it looks as though nobody has used it in weeks. Ethan rests his palms on the counter, his deep breaths loud in the room, and decides he better get used to this feeling. This feeling where he's not entirely sure what it is. Numbness inducing empty tears. Ethan thumps his hand down onto the edge of the sink, pain radiating, and shudders.

He knows what he's going to do. This morning was leading up to it. He'd rather burn than feel nothing at all.

Ethan sighs shakily as he reaches into the cupboards. _It_ shines between his fingers. If Cal knew what Ethan does when he feels bad, he'd clear out all the shelves even more than they have been already. Anything can be used as a tool for destruction and Ethan knows that's not good.

It stings more because it's been a while. It feels like coming home.

One. Because he's hurt people.

Two. Because he made Cal bleed.

Three. Because this should make him feel better.

Four. Because- why doesn't he feel better?

Five. Why isn't this working?

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Now it is. Somehow. Wrongly. Stinging pain is blinding him.

Ten. Because he can't talk about what's wrong because he doesn't know because it doesn't make sense and becausebecause _because_.

Eleven.

The door handle shakes.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen, _fuck_. Because _nothing is going right_ and _maybe it never will_ and _this isn't really helping_ and _how is it meant to anyway._ He looks down at what he's done and wants to be sick. Holding his hand to his mouth, he smears blood on it from his fingertips.

The door unlocks. He can't hide what he's done. It opens, banging loudly against the wall. It rings about the room.

"No, no…"

 _Shit_.


	27. 26: Moving Quickly

**Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Yay! Poor them indeed, it's been a rough, what, 26 chapters! :) Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _HEHEHEH I AM NOT SORRY AT ALL (love ya most ;D). Nope it really didn't! She definitely chose the worst time ever to pack up and go. Glad it was a bit of a surprise! It was, I mean it was hardly a normal relationship, definitely quite heavy... any relationship to survive all THIS is one built to last forever. It's definitely gonna affect em both. Ethan was getting closer to Mollie for sure, I like writing almost a family bond with them. Aw I'm so happy you liked the pacing! Shock him into action, well, if that doesn't make him move, nothing will! It's all going to be happening now. You're so right, it's a matter of actual life and death (very dramatic - very Moi). Really hope you enjoy what's coming up! Thank you for your review dude!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Ay here you go! Poor Cal's heart... it's been through a lot. Ah thank you! I'm glad nobody has thought it's going too slowly, am always scared of that! Though it's gonna be a bit faster now. They were nice, yeah, it's good for them to just... talk. Finally. Bless em. I hope you remain intrigued and satisfied with upcoming chapters! Aw that's so nice! Thank you for your review!_

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 **(1 day later) 2nd of July 2017**

Cal calls Charlie - and then Charlie calls Connie. They make 'plans'. Ones which Ethan doesn't entirely know about. Whatever they are, he won't like them.

He wishes he'd have said yes to talking to Cal. Just Cal. He could've gotten away with just one person knowing everything. But it didn't work out that way.

" _Stay still. Please, stay still."_

 _Cal is obviously holding on by a thread. Ethan can't look at him, predicting that anything can send Cal into a spiral. He hasn't shouted yet. Nor cried._

" _Does that hurt?"_

 _Numbly, Ethan shakes his head. Blood is blossoming through the tissues. It stings; but he's grown to like the feeling of it. He doesn't say this out loud. Cal would never understand._

" _Why would you do that? Why… I don't know why you'd do it, Ethan."_

" _I'm sorry," he says helplessly. And he really is. Not sorry he did it, but sorry Cal had to be a witness to his poor mental health._

" _I don't want you to be sorry! I just want to know why."_

 _Ethan opens his mouth to speak, but then clenches his jaw. He can't even meet Cal's eyes. Physically, he's not allowing himself to say anything. To even give a morsel of explanation for a single thing he's done. There's no way he can. He can't._

" _Then I've got no choice left, Ethan."_

 _That sentence doesn't make sense. In the morning, it does. When everything is moving too fast._

Ethan calls Mollie, due to his lack of knowing what to do next. Because she said she was there if she was needed. And he needs her now. Or he needs someone, anyway. And that someone can't be Cal because Cal's plans are… terrifying.

The bedroom door is locked with him inside of it. Blinds are drawn, the light is off and he's paced the carpet until his head span. Cal has tried to come in numerous times, offering water, food ("Just an apple, Ethan, please.") and comfort. None made Ethan open the door. Not even when Cal posted a piece of paper under the door frame with a frowny face on it.

Mollie's breathing is audible through the phone as he lays there presently. It's soft and feathery. " _It's going to be alright. I promise you that it will be."_

He's been laying there for what feels like decades now, phone pressed to his ear. From the other side of the line, he can hear crackling and her drumming her nails against the table. Quickly. Mainly, they sit in silence, the phone bill mounting up, because Ethan doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what he needs. Everything is riddled with confusion.

He just wants to be happy now.

He is not normal. He knows that. He should eat and sleep and work and smile and laugh but he can't, because of reasons he can't comprehend. Reasons that are tangled. Messy.

Ethan knows he's got a problem. Something that he can't control anymore. Just like his mum. It makes him want to sleep and not bother with the waking up part.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"I'm not happy that you didn't let me know as soon as you found your brother," is the first sentence Connie says during start of the _Serious_ _Talk_. She'd barely stopped to refuse his offer of coffee when she'd first arrived.

Charlie tilts his head to the side slightly. Giving Cal a disapproving look. "Me too."

"I know," Cal says guiltily. She'd been so helpful during times where Cal was virtually brotherless, and he'd only had to give one promise in return from that. One that he broke. "I'm sorry. I should've told you."

"But I can see why you didn't."

"You can?"

"Control freak. You didn't want me taking over with this. Anything else, you probably wouldn't have cared." Connie leans back on the sofa, crossing her legs. "You don't know what to do, do you?"

"Connie," Charlie says from the armchair. A warning. Cal doesn't think she needs a warning; he just wants her to make this better, whether her words hurt or not.

"No," Cal says. "I don't know what to do. Why'd you think I called?" As he speaks, he feels as though he is betraying Ethan. Even though he's not. This is for the best. This is for the best, it's for the _best_! "It's not like we can go on like this for much longer before something bad happens. This intervention, it's been due to happen for months. So whatever you think is best, just... do it."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

" _You can cry. I won't think any less of you if you cry."_

He rests the triangle of his sleeved - now clean, it's been bandaged, but Cal did it, so now his arm is tainted with more bad memories - arm over his face. "I'm not going to cry." He might, actually. But he's faced with the sort of disbelief that this is happening, which makes it impossible to. All he can do is reel back from this.

" _Are you going to tell me what's happened?"_

Ethan looks over to the door. He can still hear murmurs of conversation leaking through the door. Vainly, he wonders if they can hear his own voice. Then he realises it doesn't matter. They already know all his secrets. There's no point in worrying about that. Cal's ear could be pressed against the door and it wouldn't make a difference.

"They're going to send me away," Ethan mumbles. "I know it."

" _It was always going to happen, Eth."_ She calls him that like she's been calling him it all his life. It makes him want her more. Even though she'd likely be on everyone else's side.

"Then why didn't it happen sooner?"

" _Because me and Cal were scared. We didn't… we could've… Ethan, it's complicated."_

"I know," he holds his arm up in the air, tracing the swirls in the circle as she talks on. One looks like a baby wrapped in a shawl. One looks like a rose.

From outside, a loud noise catches his attention. A knock at the door. The chair pushed against it - very teenage-esque, though Ethan somehow never managed to be the typical cliche who barricaded himself into places whereas Cal did - isn't going to hold up forever.

"You've got to open up sometime, Ethan." Cal.

His breathing quickens. Scrambling upwards, he perches on the edge of the bed. He wants to fly away, to become invisible, to get so small that he can slip through the cracks in the window and get to safety. Away from them. Away from their words and plans and sympathetic expressions that make him feel queasy.

"We're just here, okay?" says Cal again from outside. As comfort, Ethan presumes. In a ' _you're not alone'_ sort of way, as if whether or not he's physically alone makes much of a difference. He could be in a crowd right now and feel isolated. He could be in a room on the phone to someone with family and colleagues in the room next door and still feel alone.

Mollie has gone quiet, clearly hearing the same he is. Ethan strains his ears. There's more talking. He hears the word ' _cut'_ and his blood runs cold. Then he hears the s-h words and feels his stomach beginning to get knotted, flipping and squeezing, because that was his secret. It was under control.

Funnily enough, them speaking about his harming, how they're going to proceed with making him stop, makes him want to do it right now. Coping mechanism. He knows it's bad. Doesn't mean that he's prepared to quit.

Ethan isn't ready for Mollie to know. "Can you hear what they're saying?"

" _No,"_ she says. Liar. Pretending like he's still got this secret, some ounce of control. She knows. The way she's speechless is evidence to that fact.

Ethan sits himself on the floor. The bed would be a far better choice. Or his desk. Or, ideally, outside with the others, getting himself some help so he can be happy. That's what they want. That's what they're waiting for. Obviously, they genuinely believe they can get him back to a functioning person again.

Ethan isn't really sure what to believe. Is he lying to himself or are they?

" _Do you feel like you need help?"_

He hates the repercussions of what could happen if he says yes. He hates telling lies if he says no. He hates not knowing the right thing. It's like his brain is unreliable. And if he can't even trust himself, who the hell can he trust?

"I don't know."

Mollie hmms. Quietly. She says something comforting that he doesn't hear. He can't hear anything other than his pounding heart.

"Will you visit," he says, "if they do lock me away?"

" _Oh, Ethan. Of course I will."_

Locked away. That's terrifying. Absolutely no control. "But you won't let them do that, so, there's no point discussing," he says brightly. Too hopefully. He shouldn't have had hope. When it dies at her lack of comfort, it's devastating.

" _I'm glad that you're finally going to get the help you need. You need to eat. You need to feel better."_

"I know," he says quietly, "I just don't want to eat."

" _You always acted like you didn't know you needed to."_

"Of course I knew. I do _know_. It's just… it's a high, Mollie." There's quiet. He fills it before he realises he's going to. "Not eating keeps me high, somehow, even when I feel like I should give in," he swallows. He doesn't know why he's saying all of this. Nobody understands it. She doesn't. "Or it did. I'm low, now. Lower than ever."

" _I wish I could understand."_

Ethan wouldn't wish this on anyone, least of all her. "I'm glad you don't."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"We're going to take this in steps."

Both men are watching Connie intently. She's the ringleader. They're happy to let her take control. She's pulled out a sheet of paper, her elbows leant on her knees as she's writing neatly on it. The stereotypical doctor's scrawl doesn't apply to her. The writing across the page is flawless and mechanical.

"Firstly, book an appointment."

That's going to be hellish. Cal pictures it now. There's not a single chance that Ethan will consent to it. It'll be Cal, dragging him, and there will be that conflicted mental argument he'll watch Ethan go through. Where he wants to kick up a fuss; but, additionally, he won't want to be a problem. It'll be an explosion - whether it'll be internal or external, immediate or procrastinated, those are the questions.

Charlie pulls Cal back into the conversation with a steady hand. He touches his shoulder, smiling as Cal's head turns round. Cal smiles back. He still can't believe any of this is happening.

"-probably Ben Harding, but I do think it'd be better to get out of Holby. Whoever it is, they'll blood test just to check it's not medic-"

"It's not medical," Cal interrupts. Connie glares at him but it's arguably far weaker than usual. One could say she's cutting him some slack. Nobody could struggle to find the reasons why. Cal apologises anyway. "Sorry. I'll shut up."

"No, don't. What makes you think it isn't?" Charlie asks.

"We did explore that possibility a while back, when doctor Chao brought this whole matter to our attention," Connie says, now backing Cal up. Then her forehead creases. "Would she have any insight on this, do you think, Cal? To know why this started would be useful."

"I doubt it. You know what Ethan's like. Wouldn't have told her anything."

"Shame," she says. "You're the one who knows the most, then?"

"Yes. Well, me and Mollie," he trails off at the mention of her name. "But she doesn't know why it started anyway," he says quickly, "it just did."

Charlie shakes his head. "All spiralled so quickly, didn't it?"

"Yeah. Though I think it was just a long time coming," Cal says. "I saw it a while back. Knew it was all going wrong. I didn't say anything. I should've said something."

"You weren't to know it'd get this bad, Cal," Charlie comforts.

"I should've. I've seen it before, what with mum, with patients, so many times," Cal berates. "What sort of brother am I if I don't even notice this? Not just the… starving, but the fact he's been _hurting_ himself. On _purpose_. I've just sat back and waited for it all to get better but it hasn't, it's worse, now…" Cal sucks in a breath. "Now I've lost a girlfriend and I'm going to lose my brother, if I haven't lost him already. Which I think I have. Just look at this mess." Then he can't bear to speak anymore.

Charlie is looking down at the table. Connie refuses to meet anyone's eye. The sadness of the words finally sinks in and Cal is breathless, gulping, realising as it hits him. _This is bad. This is so bad._

"Okay?"

Cal nods at Charlie. "Yeah," he manages. "Just needed to get that out, I think."

"Good. You get it all out," Charlie says comfortingly, confirming that he is, always and forever, Cal's step in parent.

Connie looks up. "I do wish we could've got him help sooner. Both of you."

The weight of a million suns in guilt rests upon Cal. It's heavy and it burns. "I wish too."

Sentimentality doesn't linger in Connie's expression for long. "Well, we are now," Connie says sternly, because she's smart enough to grasp that some wishes are hopeless.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan has to leave the room at some point.

Mollie keeps telling him this. She says to pretend like she's with him. To close his eyes and try to imagine her voice in his ears, her hand in his. Ethan wants to. But hanging up the phone seems like something he isn't quite ready to do.

Mollie asks if he would like her to come round. Ethan is touched by the sacrifice, knowing that she would be unlikely to want to see her ex, but he says no. It's unfair. She left for a reason. He can't let her come back. Enough people are hurt recently. He doesn't want Mollie and Cal seeing eachother, it'll only tear the wound open further when the blood has only just started to clot.

"It's okay," he says quietly. Not sure what about.

" _It's not okay, Ethan,"_ Mollie says firmly. " _It is not okay."_

He wonders if he should just ask her what he should do. He could go into robot mode, emotionless and allowing himself to be dragged anywhere without a fight. She could control him. There's evidence she cares - Ethan is always one to have to have evidence backed up to everything, otherwise he won't believe it - so she wouldn't make the wrong choices. Maybe. Ethan isn't comfortable assigning all control over someone so he keeps his mouth stitched in case he says the wrong thing.

Ethan is tearing himself into pieces when there's another knock at the door. His heart knows it's not just Cal this time; and his brain knows he won't return to this room being the same person.

"You need to open this door, or I'm going to have to knock it down." It's still Cal. Obviously. He sounds painfully apologetic. Like _sorry to disrupt your mental breakdown, bro, but we should probably book you in somewhere_.

He doesn't reply. Silent.

" _Go and see your brother."_

"I can't," his heart is backing him up, thumping too fast to be normal.

" _I'm holding you back,"_ she says. " _I'm going to go. You need to speak to him."_

Ethan wants to beg her to stay. Desperately. Like a child clinging onto their mothers leg, unprepared to step into nursery. He doesn't want to let go. He's frightened.

But he hangs up anyway after an exchange of weak goodbyes.

The door keeps knocking. It's going to be broken down if that continues - and it will. Ethan doesn't believe Cal is saying empty threats. These threats are _far_ from empty. They are full of conviction. Cal means every word he says now because he's got two people backing him up, and a head full of reason and a heart that knows what to do now. Recent events have shocked him into action.

Ethan knows his hands are shaking. A lot. He clumsily pulls the chair out of the way, regrets it, and wants to hide. Because now he's cornered.

Cal comes in first. Somehow he looks older than he did the last time Ethan saw him. Furrowed forehead. Tired eyes. Droopy frame. Ethan steps back. Cal comes to Ethan's side, perching on the edge of the bed. Ethan just stands, back to the wall. He doesn't know the correct etiquette for this.

"What have you been doing?"

Ethan does his best to remain neutral, but his eyes must shift over to his phone. It's tangled in the bedsheets. Cal picks it up. Just switching it on shows that he's had over an hour long conversation with someone called 'Mollie Sanderson'.

"Ah," Cal drops it onto the duvet, smiling. "Betrayal, I see."

Before he can help it, Ethan snaps, "don't talk to me about betrayal." Ethan wasn't angry before. Now, he finds he is. He clings onto this feeling. It feels so much better in comparison to wet misery.

Cal holds his hands up. There's still a smile on his face like it's permanently stuck there now. "Alright, mate."

 _Don't call me mate. Don't smile at me. If I cried right now, would you make a joke about it?_ "You called them." He chances a look over to the door, knowing they'll be close. Listening.

"What did Mollie have to say, then?"

Ethan jabs a thumb over to the open doorway. "What did _they_ have to say?" He might be unstable but his eyes still work and he can still see two people lingering. Maybe they have a straight jacket waiting.

"Listen, we're going to take you to a hospital," Cal says. Just like that. Not even answering the question.

Ethan can see it in his mind and he doesn't want to go, he really doesn't. He will not sit in front of some psychiatrist and cut his mind open so everyone can turn around and go, _yeah, seems pretty fucked up to me._

Ethan knew this was coming anyway. But now it's here.

"Why?" It's a stupid, dumb, _idiotic_ question. He knows why. He knows all too bloody _well_ why.

"Because you know you've got a problem," Cal says, in a not very Cal voice. "And it can't go on. It'll only get worse."

Ethan runs his hands over his sleeved arms, exhaling a surprisingly shaky and loud breath. Obviously his instability is in the air because Charlie walks in, like Ethan needs someone there to pick up his pieces in case he crumbles, and Connie stays, leant against the doorframe like a spectator of a tennis match.

"I don't want to go," Ethan says pathetically. And he hates himself for it, because he feels like a problem now. He's wasting everyone's time. Yet he can't stop his refusals, that are, admittedly, frustrating for both parties.

"We know you don't," Charlie says, edging closer. "But you're logical. You know that what's been going on is worrying. Above all, this isn't a good life for you."

"It's okay," he says, and he swears that they all manage to simultaneously sigh.

Charlie continues nonchalantly with the slight addition of sympathy, the sort only Charlie can manage to show without looking patronising. "What happened yesterday evening, Ethan?"

His stomach pitches reliably. "You already know," he says, "what's the point of saying it out loud?" He is not saying in front of colleagues and family what he _did_ to himself. That is private.

"We can't help but think that, maybe subconsciously, you were trying to show how upset you were. Without words," Charlie says.

No. He felt bad. He wanted to sting. So he did. "I'm not _upset_ ," he insists, wanting to cry.

Connie takes a step forward. Still relaxed. It's humiliating. His boss, his colleague, his brother, trying to soothe him like he's a fucking child. He wants to scream at the frustration of it all.

"You're a risk to yourself, Ethan," Connie says - no 'doctor Hardy'. He's not her employee anymore. He is a patient. The use of his name is testament to that fact. "We're all very concerned."

He doesn't want them to be concerned! He doesn't want this!

"S-so you're going to take me to a hospital, force me to talk to strangers, as if they can make everything better? Where they'll lock me away and do whatever they want?"

Cal is speaking very monotone. "That is _not_ going to happen. You're making it sound like hell."

"No, it will happen, because that's what happened to mum!" his bottom lip shakes at her name. "She wasn't well, was she? And she spent ages in hospital. Isolated and alone."

All Connie takes from this is, "so you know you have a problem."

Ethan feels frustration bubble up in his gut. He scrunches his fists into balls. Bloody half moons are carved into his skin immediately.

"She wasn't on her own. She had us," Cal says. "And you have me."

Ethan shakes his head pointlessly. "No I don't. Because you're controlled by _them_."

Cal laughs. "No, I'm not!"

"You are!" Ethan argues, raging against the laughter. That stupid deep laughter. Like he's just being _so_ ridiculous. Maybe the calm that Cal is projecting is meant to soothe him, but right now, ocean sounds couldn't do _shit_ to solace him. "You never even said you wanted to send me to hospital, and then Mollie broke up with you and you got them round and your mind is all different. It's like they're poisoning you."

"I am not poisoned," Cal says, in the same way you'd announce the colour of the sky. "I didn't know what to do before. I was waiting - and that was wrong. This won't clear up on its own."

Ethan doesn't know what to say. He's unsure of what he's arguing against. He feels frustration in his stomach and exhaustion in his shoulders and stinging in his red face.

Charlie quietly suggests sitting in the other room. Connie, louder, says that's a good idea. Cal tries to put his arm around Ethan as they walk in but Ethan refuses to be that easy.

Ethan watches as they all sit. He's speechless.

"First step to getting help is admitting you have a problem, you know," Charlie says. "If you can say it, you'll find this a hell of a lot easier."

Ethan sits and looks at his lap. Their eyes are on him. They're expecting him to admit it, to say there's something wrong with him, that he's wrong.

And he is. He's all wrong.

"Alright," he mumbles. Then louder, "you're all right, I've gone crazy - are you happy?"

He snaps it. Like an angsty teenager. They all exchange glances without trying to hide it. They all sit, maturely, as if they're having a conversation with their eyes.

And he feels ungrateful. Wrong. Because, even though he hates it, they're trying to help in their own annoying ways. They might be making him squirm but they are trying to make him better, to fix the parts of him that feel like they are torn.

"I didn't mean that."

They all say it's okay. It's fine to be angry and he shouldn't apologise, and Ethan, you're not crazy, so don't say that. Ethan doesn't speak after that. They do; but none of them want to sit and talk for long. It can't be much longer until they say those words and move him along to some hospital waiting room.

Then they do.

"We ought to get going," Connie says, regarding herself and Charlie. "I'll trust you both to head to the appointment. Half past three, don't be late." Then she says something else that Ethan doesn't want to hear. Something about him needing to go, and if not, they'll have to take more immediate action. More people will get involved. She says it loud enough for him to hear.

Ethan squeezes his hands. Clench and unclench. Cal nods without replying to any of that and they start saying their goodbyes.

 _Come on. Breathe. It's fine. Logic... Be logical. Be positive!_

 _They are not sectioning me! That's good, isn't it? I can find out exactly what's wrong at this appointment, - which, additionally, I'm lucky to have with the NHS waiting list - officially, and get free from it. There's a chance I'll be happy again. Cal is right, surely. I'll just keep getting worse and worse if I feel this way._

Then the negative part of him kicks in.

 _They'll likely section me because there's no way I'll be able to walk in to that appointment. Diagnose me and send me somewhere. No choice. I'll get a nose tube. They'll treat me like a child. I'll gain loads of weight and be forced to talk about what's going on and-_

 _That's good! Talking is good!_

 _No, it isn't. It hurts. Hurting isn't good._

Ethan realises he's beginning to rock on the spot. It's obviously noticeable because they're whispering about it as they're halfway to the door. Ethan tries to block it out, focusing on chewing his lip. His mouth begins to taste like pennies.

 _Picture this. You'll walk into the appointment, you'll wait, they'll send you straight to a ward. It's going to be hard. You're too tired for this._

 _Just sleep. Sleeping is easier._

 _No! Go and get help!_

 _Wow, you've changed your tune. You didn't even acknowledge you had a problem a while ago!_

 _Maybe I'm sick of being miserable. Maybe I want to be okay!_

"Ethan," Cal interrupts him, hand on his shoulder. "You're muttering."

And so he is. Ethan nods, feeling Cal clap him on the back. Then he doesn't really feel much else. He's back in his head again.

Ethan imagines Mollie beside him. Her soft hand over his, shiny nails gleaming. Her feathery long hair tickling his side. It smells like shampoo and vanilla. Her voice tells him it's all going to be okay.

Then the thought changes. Mollie is angry. _You ruined my relationship! You ruined it all! God, if you even think I'm going to protect you if people threaten a section… I'll be glad to see you gone, sweetheart._

Ethan doesn't want to listen to himself anymore. He wants to listen to Cal, who is sat on the edge of coffee table in front of him. Telling him to breathe. To concentrate on five things he can hear- no, five things he can see. All Ethan sees is black spots. He's panicking.

 _Maybe they'll make me feel better if I go. Maybe I can live normally again. No matter how bad it is now. I could feel normal again, maybe, I could let them try…_

Then he thinks of a nose tube again and his lungs feel like they've shrunk.

"Charlie, mate?" Cal's voice is loud, higher pitched, and the front door creaks open. There's a soft grumble reply. "Sorry, come here a second, I can't… Ethan, try and breathe properly, okay?"

 _Go away, Cal. Go away. This is your fault._

 _No, Cal. Stay. Don't leave me._

 _Go away._

 _Stay._

 _Don't go! I need you._

The internal argument is too much. He can't take it. Ethan gets to his feet, past Cal, past Charlie, and through the door. He should've known he couldn't do this. Not at all. Blood is pumping in his ears. He can feel them close, they're reaching out. They're going to grab him. Thump, thump, thump. Loud voices and heightened fear.

 _No, no…_

 _Run. Just run._

He swipes the keys from the counter. He does it before he knows he's going to. The door swings closed, echoing loudly against the walls, down the spiral metal staircase, against all other doors. The handle presses downwards but he uses all snatches of strength.

He locks them in and drops the keys.

 _You're not getting me. You're not taking me._

Down the stairs, out of the door and through the carpark. He narrowly dodges an oncoming car, the horn screeching at him and the wheels grinding to an immediate halt on the ground. Asphalt flies. He's halfway down the road when his knees are buckling, his head is spinning, and he's taking refuge on a bench. Desperately fighting for breath. He's checking all around him, wondering if they're still following him, and they're not. Everything is fine.

 _Everything isn't fine. You want to sleep and never wake up. That's an all time low._

Ethan continues down the road at walking pace. Cars pass by, unknowing of anything. People thinking he's one of them. Level-headed and methodical. He's not.

There's a man who shares the height and build of Cal, so Ethan flinches despite the fact this stranger is black haired. There's a noise of heels - Connie wasn't in the flat, it could be her - so Ethan begins to tremble. And then there's a white-haired man exiting the off-licence, and Ethan begins to sprint away.

It's the looks that do it. They remind him that he's being ridiculous. Nobody does this. _Nobody_. He stops against a tree once he's a good distance away from the man who he knows wasn't Charlie. He knows.

 _There's something wrong with me,_ he thinks as his heart thumps away in his chest. _There's something going so wrong that I don't even know what's right anymore. I'm not normal or logical._

Ethan can see his block of flats in the distance. His home. It's grey and tall with windows and there's brick walls surrounding the black bins, protecting them, with people leant against them as they laugh loudly. That's his _home_.

Then there's hands on him. Embarrassingly loudly, he gasps. He turns on his feet, fighting against them, until he realises who it is.

"Back inside. Come on."

Cal. Of course.

"How'd you get out? I locked you in!" The guilt of that begins to settle. He did a very bad thing.

"Spare key," Cal says, mouth quirking into a smile. Despite it all.

Ethan still isn't breathing properly but he does his best to engage in normal human conversation. "Where'd… where did you find a spare key?"

"In the shit drawer."

"The… the what drawer?"

Cal looks at Ethan as if he's stupid. "That _super_ special drawer we have in the kitchen. The one where all random shit goes into. Allen keys. Batteries. Clock hands. _Keys_. The shit drawer."

Ethan nods. "The shit drawer," he repeats.

They stand quietly. Traffic rushes past, the world continuing to go round. People still resume their lives. Hearts continue to beat and planets still orbit and blood works its way through veins. Cal has his hands on Ethan's shoulders as they stand oppositely, in the way Ethan likes. Lightly. Like he's comforting; not trying to keep him still or control him. But he still feels trapped. Frightened. Like he's cornered and threatened. He's scared. Maybe it'd be easier to go. To… die. He needs easy. Easy is good.

He's contemplating death. Right now. Something he never thought he'd do. No wonder people are worried.

Maybe Cal senses it. Maybe he can tell; because he says what Ethan needs right now, in this moment. A question he actually knows the answer to.

"What do you need?"

"For you to convince me," Ethan says quietly. "Give me the reasons to stay."


	28. 27: Reasons To Stay

**Guest:** _Aw you're so kind! Aha, oh no... the first few chapters are definitely... something! Hopefully, they weren't too bad. It definitely went from a diet to a coping mechanism, which is never a good switch. That's exactly it, yeah! Really glad you can see Mollie as a character rather than a cardboard cut-out, I've modelled parts of her on people that I know :D Ah I hope these chapters are enjoyed! (SAME ahh) Thank you so much for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Lovely as always! Ah yay, I'm glad that the conflicting thoughts were understandable. Hopefully, he can! It's nice, yeah, Mollie and Ethan have sort of a close bond now, I couldn't imagine her giving up on him even though she's left Cal. That's so nice! Thank you very much for your review :D_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(Same day) 2nd of July 2017**

It's the same park they used to go to every weekend. Ethan remembers clearly. He remembers feeling lucky to live where he did, in a smart end terrace. The path along the main road leads right to fields, parks and tiny shops with little old ladies buying newspapers in it. As soon as Cal and Ethan could both be trusted to cycle there alone, they would go as often as they could.

Years later, they are walking here together. Memories are in every part of this place. Decades have passed since Ethan was been small enough to squeeze through the metal fencing, but some of the old equipment is still firmly planted into the black tarmac. It's as he remembers. Reminiscent of childhood.

The swings - him and Cal would go as high as they could, then jump off. The slide - as soon as Ethan was old enough to walk, he'd climb up the slide and get stuck at the top. Every time. Cal would either coax him down the steps or help him down the slide, laughing good-naturedly as Ethan would squeal. The roundabout - they'd spin on it until they felt sick. Or until one of them actually flew off, that happened once; Cal, of course, but he bounced back uninjured. The climbing frame with the little house on top of it - their old favourite. Ethan would sit and read whilst Cal hung on the monkey bars, then swing up to chat. They'd lose track of time.

Their mum would wander down the path, outside of the fence, wrapping her arms around her body. The same woollen cardigan protecting her from cold, the one she'd owned for years that was matted with age. She'd shout them home for bedtime. It usually got late. In summer, they wouldn't even know so much time had passed. In winter, they'd have to rush home in the dark.

Presently, Cal nudges Ethan in the ribs. It's lightly, but it still manages to hurt. It certainly gets his attention, anyway. Ethan shifts on the bench they are now sitting on.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Us," Ethan says simply. "What are you thinking about?"

"You."

Ethan doesn't look at Cal. His eyes keep focused on the bordered park. There are no children playing on it. Just long blades of grass being ruffled by wind and swings being rocked by nothing.

"Tell me what you meant earlier. Convince you to stay?"

His stomach pitches. "I meant just that."

Ethan virtually just told Cal that he's contemplating death - and Cal is, outwardly, unphased.

"Because you've got so much more living left to do," he states soberly.

"I'm done, Cal."

"You've barely started."

Ethan quits listening and watches the climbing frame ahead of them. Rusted with age; sturdy and firm. "You pushed me off that climbing frame," he recalls quietly. Like it's relevant. It isn't.

"And you cried like a baby."

"It hurt, that's why."

"I reckon it did," Cal sidles closer to Ethan. "But you still got back up again, didn't you?"

Ethan shrugs. "It hurt but it wasn't going to kill me. 'Course I got back up." Cal makes a little _hmmfh_ noise, as though he's made a point. Ethan supposes he can see similarities from then to now. Bouncing back despite everything. But skinned knees and a big bruise is different to… _this_.

 _I do this a lot_ , Ethan realises as he imagines their past selves, cartwheeling on the tarmac, laughing like maniacs. _I keep thinking about the past_. It's like he can't quite step out of it. His deceased parent and the one who walked out of their red painted door, they're always in the back of his mind. Their characteristics, their beliefs. Ethan is stuck with one foot in the past, the other in the present, and he can't quite move forward.

He's intensely hung up on the past. Obsessed with it. Once, he heard someone say that you've sometimes got to go back to go forwards. So, sitting on the bench beside Cal, he goes backwards.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan is five. He has his first pair of wire-rimmed glasses, freckles and floppy blond hair that seriously needs a haircut. Cal is older and taller with gappy teeth, all smiles, and elbows that seem to be built for getting grazed. Ethan asks his mum what a calorie is; he heard their dad getting angry because she didn't eat enough. He wants to know if they're a type of snack. Mum says they're bad. Dad shakes his head. Then Cal drags Ethan by the elbow to play football outside with him.

Ethan is seven. He's been at a primary school for two years. His favourite teacher sticks shiny golden stars onto his aced spelling test and ruffles his hair. Boys sneer at the back of the room. They pull his hair and glare at the stars. Ethan only gets upset when they say he's fat because he heard his mum tell Cal that that's one of the worst insults you can be called. He tells his dad and dad tells him that mum is wrong, and Ethan shouldn't listen to those mean boys.

Ethan is nine. Someone calls him gay at school because he held a boys hand. _Weak_ and _small_ and a word beginning with 'F'. Ethan watches as Cal bubbles with anger and frustration at the bullies. At home, dad - as always - says that gay isn't an insult and gives Ethan a hug. Cal breaks a vase because of his lack of attention and mum gets mad. Cal is just happy to be noticed. Ethan is smart enough to realise this. He gives Cal a hug before bed and says that he'll always be his favourite, forever and always. That's true.

Ethan is fourteen. For a week straight, he shares Cal's bed. Dad left without warning and he hasn't come back. Cal chews his thumbnail until it bleeds, pretending like he doesn't miss his dad and the time he never spent with him, and Ethan doesn't sleep because he can hear Cal sniffling and it keeps him up. Ethan is upset too because dad always made him feel better after a bad day of school. They don't eat properly for a week and end up looking gaunt. Mum says that this sort of grief is the best diet. Cal shakes his head at her the same way their dad used to. Ethan lets her words sink in, but is preoccupied with being wounded by missing him.

Ethan is sixteen. He's gotten a new pair of too big black framed glasses after school and they're fogging up over the bubbling saucepan he's stirring. It's pasta night again. He cooks every meal nowadays because Cal burns everything and mum uses that as an excuse not to eat. Ethan makes good pasta but mum says it's too rubbery, so he throws it away in the end.

Ethan is eighteen. Mum was diagnosed with cancer a few years ago - another horrid surprise - and now he's worried because mum isn't responding well to her chemotherapy. One night, he calls their dad. Dad doesn't pick up the phone. Ethan sulks about it until Cal finds out, and they shout at eachother in the middle of Tesco with baguettes and tins of beans in shaking hands until they're kicked out. They cycle home together with their lips pressed in stern lines. Neither tells mum. Ethan just wonders why their dad doesn't want them anymore.

Next season, Ethan is excited to go to med school. Every spare moment is spent in the park he loves, by the lake, studying every illness he can think of using library books and bitten pencils. Mum comes sometimes. She is so frail that she might blow away with the leaves crunch beneath his feet in Autumn; the same season that Ethan gets his first proper girlfriend. She is called Alana but she doesn't really love him like he loves her so it doesn't last long.

Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one. Ethan is growing into his black glasses and being a medical student. He's forgetting his home life until it leaks into his academic one. In the summer, his mum shows up during a lecture. There's apologies and hugs and people are looking, confused, and his professor isn't happy, but she tells him that she's going to get proper help now. That she's going to make him proud. Ethan doesn't see her for a couple months whilst she gets her head together.

Then Ethan is twenty-five. Cal is twenty-seven, yet he doesn't act it, and he doesn't return phone calls. They're growing apart as they age. Fortunately, Mum is finally living like she should, and they can agree on one thing at least; they are so proud of her. She still counts calories sometimes but she appreciates the therapy sessions she gets to attend. Hugging her feels comforting, with her new soft body, rather than scary.

Then Ethan gets a new placement at a local hospital in Holby. Mum passes away eventually - long live her memory. Dad remains dedicated to his radio silence. Then eventually, Cal and Ethan reconcile. Their family is smaller than ever but it's stronger than it could be. They work at the same hospital, sleep in the same flat and eat the same meals, laughing over ridiculous inside jokes that don't make sense to anyone but them. They think they're ready for anything the world can throw at them. And they're right. They can. They _do_. They have seen it all.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"You were a good kid."

Ethan wrinkles his nose. "Thought you said I was annoying." Numerous times, that has been Cal's choice adjective to describe Ethan. Honestly, he wouldn't expect anything less. Teasing by nature.

"You were both. I think younger brothers, by default, are just annoying."

"Must be the same for big brothers."

In the corner of his eye, he can see as Cal smiles. Ethan does too. Then he stops because it feels wrong and he knows it won't _last_ , anyway. Any sort of joy is always fleeting.

"Why'd you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Smile. Then stop. You used to do it a lot. You still do."

"I don't know," he says quietly.

"You deserve to be happy, you know. You deserve to give yourself a chance."

"I'm too far gone." He says it without realising how upsetting that could be to hear. Cal squeezes his hands into little fists, making Ethan want to unclench them. He doesn't despite wishing to.

"You're not the exception to the rule," Cal says eventually.

"You don't know that-"

"I do," Cal whips his head around, facing Ethan. He forces Ethan to meet his eye. Bodies twisted. "But you need to try. Face these fears and defeat that stupid voice that tells you the worst of everything. This is gonna suck so hard, Ethan, but what's the alternative?"

Ethan opens his mouth to speak but he can't find the words. Nothing is fitting. He wants to tell Cal he's scared. But he realises how pathetic it might be. So he seals his lips.

"Say it. Whatever you were going to say."

Resolving never to speak again, Ethan indignantly shakes his head.

"If you're going to let yourself die, what have you got to lose? _Nothing_."

Ethan can't meet Cal's eyes. They're ocean blues. Like the seafront they always used to visit as kids. Turquoise waves with bubbly hems, riding up the damp sand with footprints in. They'd chase the tide. Ethan can hear the childish laughter. _Careful, boys,_ he hears his mum call, _in case you go too deep._

He is too deep. Right now, he's in so deep that he can't see the top. Everything is dark. There's so much of the ocean that is undiscovered, uncharted, and he's in that part of it right now. Reeds attacking his ankles and anchors holding him down and frightening sea creatures biting his fingers. But he knows there's something above. Maybe. If he keeps swimming, he could keep going up and up until the blue gets lighter and until he can see the sun glowing against the waves. Joining the people chasing the tide, unafraid of the darkness.

Ethan meets Cal's eyes again. "I'm scared," he says. Just like that. Then Cal does one of those shaky little sighs, arches his back and pulls Ethan close, carefully but tightly, like he might never let go.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

" _I'm scared, Cal."_

 _Cal, derived from Caleb, is a new nickname. Ethan, struggling with a stutter, chose it because of its convenience. And it just kind of stuck. It's better than the nickname that Cal gifted him with; nibbles._

 _Cal himself grins at Ethan from down below. He likes the nickname. Everyone he meets has to call him that. Everyone. He may be eight years old but he's as chatty as the day he learnt to talk._

" _Just jump down!"_

 _Ethan scowls at him. It's not that simple. He's grabbing ahold of a mossy branch with trembling hands, perched awkwardly in a crook of a tree. It's the tallest. He knows this because Cal kept telling him. All the time. He's telling him it now._

" _It's the tallest tree in the forest - think how cool everyone will think you are if you tell them you jumped from the tallest one!"_

" _I'm n-not gonna tell anyone," Ethan says through gritted teeth, "because I don't... I don't like talking." It's something he's definitely bad at. Cal is one of the few people he talks to. He hardly even speaks to his parents, really._

 _Cal shrugs. He doesn't relate. It's like he took all speaking ability from the womb and didn't even leave any leftovers for Ethan. Though maybe he left some teeth behind - he's got an endearingly gappy grin. It may be due to his amount of accidents. Cal is prone to knocking baby teeth out when messing around._

" _Fine," Cal says, turning as if he's going to walk off. Then he actually does and Ethan's heart skips a beat. "I'll just leave you here, then," he calls flippantly over his shoulder._

" _Don't go!"_

 _Cal dramatically pauses. Dirt flies about his scuffed trainers. Then, he turns again. Smug. "One."_

" _Do….not c-count," Ethan says as firmly as he can. Firmly as jelly._

" _Two…"_

" _Just h-help me! I'm gonna be stuck forever. It's s-so high and I'm r-really scared and-"_

" _All I hear is a whiny little baby," Cal teases, "who can't jump an inch down from a teeny tree."_

" _It's a h-huge tree!" Ethan shouts indignantly. "A-and an inch is bigger! I'm a million f-foot in the air!"_

 _Cal mutters something under his breath that sounds similar to a swear. Ethan resolves to tell mum, just as payback, until Cal begins to stick his feet into holes in the bark. "Fine," he says, bored now. "I'm coming to get you."_

 _Ethan feels like his feet are going numb. It's so high. Ethan wonders if monkeys ever get scared when they're in trees. Or maybe they're just used to it. They probably grip ahold of large-bodied trees with talented little hands. This tree is relatively skinny. It's certainly not the most sturdy one in the forest, despite having a lot of height. As Cal begins to climb, it feels like it's shaking._

" _D-don't!"_

" _Don't what? Save your life?"_

" _Y-you're… shaking it," Ethan says, shivering._

" _How're you gonna get down then?"_

 _Terrified, Ethan knows the answer. "I guess I-I'll have to save myself."_

 _Cal lands in a crouch position on the floor. He makes it look so easy. "Go on," then he looks vaguely concerned. "If you fall, I'll catch you. Don't worry."_

 _Ethan sees that Cal is actually serious. It's entirely possible that Cal could catch him; he is quite strong. Growing in confidence, he nods quickly and begins to reshuffle from sitting on his bottom on the branch._

 _He plans it out. Hands on the branch. Shuffle. Lowering his body. Then the big slip; where he needs to hold on to the branch and hang mid-air. Ethan breathes out. It sounds scary, but Cal is right there. Right underneath him. Besides, he can't stay there forever._

 _He goes for it. Hands on the branch he was sitting on, he manages to hang in the air. There's a lot of dead space where he needs to jump. Carefully, he looks down to check where Cal is. His insides pitch reliably. He holds courage to his chest because it has to be now. Then he lets go, screwing his eyes closed, bracing for impact. His feet hit the floor. It doesn't even hurt. He's not dead. Cal is laughing._

" _See?" Cal smiles fondly at him as he stands back up from a crouch. "You did that all on your own. I didn't even help you."_

" _Would you have c-caught me? If I'd h-have fallen?"_

" _Obviously," Cal says. Then he swings his backpack on. "Come on, let's go home."_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ever since they were tiny, Cal was always there to catch Ethan. Just in case. And vice versa; they are, indefinitely, each others' safety net. On occasion, Ethan wouldn't need Cal to help him from sticky situations. Sometimes Cal couldn't help anyway. It had to be Ethan who did it.

"Tell me why," Cal says, his arm around Ethan's waist. They're side by side on the bench. Goosebumps are rising on their skin but they're providing heat for eachother, keeping them safe from the chill.

Ethan doesn't have anything left to lose. There's nowhere lower left to sink. So he talks about it.

"Because something was wrong. I wasn't happy. And I thought it was because I wasn't thin enough." Ethan rests his head on Cal's shoulder. "But it wasn't just that. I felt achievement. It was the only thing that felt right."

"Not eating?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, nibbles."

"It wasn't a diet anymore, more of a…" Ethan searches for the right words.

"Coping mechanism?"

"Exactly that," Ethan says. The wind whistles. "It was all I was good at," he says next in a mumble. "All I could do. It made me feel better." He stares at his hands.

"When did it start getting out of control?"

"I don't really know," Ethan admits. "I let it take control. Didn't really think it was a problem until I didn't feel like being... _here_ anymore." The words make his chest feel tight.

Cal sighs his name again. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could've helped."

"It's not your fault, Cal. You tried. So many times. You and Mollie."

"I'll never forgive myself, Eth."

"There's nothing to forgive yourself for!"

"I think there is," Cal says, quietly. It's a record; he's never spoken so hushed before. "Remember a long time ago, it was me who suggested you go on that diet. I was always teasing you. All the time."

"You've always done that. It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't like it helped."

"Shut up, Cal," Ethan says, squeezing him. And then he does. Cal's hand runs down his back. When Cal's body stiffens, Ethan knows he must feel skinny in the way that is scary.

Ethan wonders how much weight he's lost in all. How much damage has been done? Ethan, eventually, manages to admit, it's going to kill me."

"Only if you let it."

Ethan finds he doesn't want it to. Right now, in his brother's grip, he feels like a little kid. A child with their whole lives ahead of them, enthusiasm in everything they do. He aspires to do that. He wants his future to be like parts of his past - happy.

"I keep thinking about when we were little," Ethan admits next. "About mum. About dad. Like I'm obsessed with the past."

"Yeah," Cal says, his sighs escaping easily. "I think I am too. It's easy to compare situations." He rubs his thumb on Ethan's arm. "What sort of memories are you thinking about?"

"Mainly the sad ones. A couple happy ones. But I keep focusing on the sad parts."

"Well, we might have witnessed the odd screaming row - but the times we laughed so hard that we peed ourselves outnumbers those rows." Cal is right. Ethan wishes he could remember the good ones easier. The bad ones seem to stick in his memory like chewing gum on the pavement.

Those memories are the ones he wants to replay in sleepless nights. Even the embarrassing ones. Even the second-hand embarrassment ones, where he witnessed Cal trying to ask numerous girls out before he'd fully developed his flirting skills and they'd laugh at him. Even those. Cal's blushing face, Ethan loving the chance to tease him for once, it makes his insides flush with nostalgia. The good kind.

"I don't want to go," Ethan says suddenly. "I don't want to."

"Then don't. Stay." Cal holds him tighter. "And if this tries to consume you, I won't let it. Not ever. You don't need to be scared anymore."

The fear still churns his stomach. But knowing that he had Cal on his side, to help him fight these fears, it makes him feel like he's wearing armour.

"You didn't section me," he thinks aloud. "I thought you would."

"It was and still is a possibility, Eth. If it comes to it, we'll have to."

"It won't," Ethan says. It definitely won't. He wants to feel better. He doesn't want to be defined by this anymore."I can't let it. I just want to make all of this go away."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Cal presses a kiss to his forehead. It feels like coming home. "And if you fall," Cal says into Ethan's hair, "I'll catch you."


	29. 28: Growing Up

**Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _I'm happy you think so! It's definitely good he's being supported. Thank you for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Haha you're so lovely it hurts! A teeny bit, yes, and that's what he needs to cling onto! Writing the conversation was so relieving, it's been a long time coming! Happy you liked that bit, hehe it seemed like the sort've thing Cal would say. Definitely, childhood shapes a person, whether positively or negatively is a different matter and I wanted to explore that for many reasons so am glad you liked it! Happy you enjoyed this. Thank you for your review and continuing support!_

 **CBloom2:** _Let's hope so! Aw that's so lovely. Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne (ch26):** _Babe aw, haha I'm sorry for making you Feel Feelings, neither of us are used to THAT haha. You've really got his feelings spot on! I'm so so so happy you liked this chapter!_

 **InfinityAndOne (ch27):** _Definitely loved writing that conversation (oh true!). The kiss, haha yes I mean we saw it happen on screen once and it was GREAT then. Had to add it. Definitely bittersweet, as it's going to be tough but they're doing their best to be there for eachother. So happy you could imagine him saying that! As their past is a huge part of this fic, it was only fitting to include a lot of it, glad you liked it! Hehe, thank you so so so much for both of your reviews!_

 **a/n:** _This is sorta a filler for Ethan's POV, but a bit more pivotal for Mollie - hope it's alright!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(One day later) 3rd of July**

Mollie jogs her leg incessantly. Up and down, up and down. It's a tic she knows that most people do. Though she's never been one of those to particularly have nervous tics; evidently, she's not who she thought she was.

 _10 seconds._

She's the sort of person who leaves when it gets difficult. Cold feet, too. Her mother has always scolded her for that. No hobbies would last for long. A year they would sometimes last to. Drama was one that stuck. Mollie supposes she's always enjoyed stepping out of herself for a moment to pretend to be someone different. Not that her self-esteem is low. It's always been high. Maybe it's the fake arguments. Mollie has always, somehow, found satisfaction in arguments.

 _8 seconds._

The last argument she witnessed, with Cal and Ethan, is one that she couldn't control. It brought no satisfaction. Only destruction. There wasn't much good that came out of that mess. Mollie still thinks on it - how Cal was barely holding himself together, how Ethan was crying his heart out. The blood on Cal's forearms, the tears on Ethan's cheeks accompanied by shuddering shoulders. She couldn't help them. She just had to wait til they both collapsed, arms full of eachother. Mollie has always liked people, always been good with them, but she couldn't help these two. Nothing could be said or done.

 _6 seconds._

In hindsight, Mollie supposes she could've done more in that situation. Hold them apart, shout some sense into them, anything. She could've defused it. Maybe? People could argue that it wasn't her responsibility, that they're grown enough to sort it themselves, but she disagrees. They're family. You always help family if they're deserving and if they have treated you right. They are deserving; and they have. They don't deserve what she did, though.

 _4 seconds._

She still can't believe it. Leave then, after everything? She supposes it was simply a ticking time bomb. 'It' being her. And with the possibility of… well, what's possible to happen in far less than nine months, it made it even more apparent she had to leave. Get her head together. It feels even more confused. Like she's stepped off of a fairground ride only to get onto another, dizzier and sicker with every passing moment.

 _2 seconds._

Despite it all, her subconscious is trying to guide her through this. No moment _isn't_ spent thinking on this subject. In a few months time, people may tell her she's glowing, that it's the perfect time to grow a family, her parents may be proud, and she'll stare down in her arms and feel a glow of joy. It's in her dreams. In her daydreams too. A baby's face even seems to be reflected in her cereal in the mornings.

 _0 seconds._

A _baby_. That's her secret. A little and teeny, fragile as a flower, gurgling baby. And what a secret to have. A possibility of having a life inside of you alongside your own, a second heart growing in your womb. It's magical - wonderful. Alongside that, it's terrifying too.

Mollie squeezes her eyes closed. The test is in her hand, the screen face-down in her palm. She's not strong enough to look - to see and to acknowledge. She wants to get up from the edge of this bath, to put her shoes on and to run away. That's not a possibility.

The problem with pregnancy is that you can't run from it when it gets hard. Because it's _in_ you. You are it. The more you run, the more it follows. Same with family. It feels like you're tangled. Sometimes it feels good to be tied to them and other times it feels like a noose around your neck.

Mollie knows she has to see. Then she has to make a decision. The choice has to be the right one. The responsibility of this is pressing at her. Her fingers fumble so the screen faces up.

She opens her eyes to see what she already knows.

 _Positive._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan is in a room. Not alone. The room has three walls, decorated with framed diplomas, sloping ceilings held up by beams, the fourth wall replaced by hazy glass, thick, alike to murky fish tank glass.

The glass wall is separating him from two figures. They are moving. They do not see him but he sees them. He blinks thrice, slowly; it's like there's sleep in his eyes. Their appearance becomes clear. They are not strangers. He knows them.

Cal and Mollie. They're like two fireworks- no, one is like the firework, one is like the match. Interchangeably, of course. They are both fiery. Somehow flames are attracted to eachother. Ethan needs to go out there and be the water that calms their blaze, because it's beginning to smoke. Literally - there's curls of smoke above their heads.

Their mouths are wide. Opening and closing, like fish mouths. Expletives are muffled but not silenced by the thick glass. They are using each other's names as though they are curse words. Smoke curling and fists balled and faces, stern and wrinkled, eyes dry and words slanted. Something is wrong. They keep gesturing to the glass even though they can't see through it somehow. Maybe it is Ethan. They might know he's there. Maybe it is something he did wrong.

Or maybe they are simply the firework and the match all at once, and they were always destined to explode. Maybe that is why. And it is not a pretty explosion. There are no sparks of colour in a pitch black sky, no delighted cheers or crackling noise. Only muffled shouts. Aggressive hands. Irate, dark frowns.

Ethan is slow. His glance stuck to them; unmoving, every blink seeming to last a lifetime. Watching is difficult, he needs to intervene. But he cannot. Looking down, movements slurred, he learns he is sitting on a chair. Now he looks closer. Ethan tries to get up, wanting to go to their sides, but he can't move. He's so… big. So close to the sloping ceilings and swollen, swelling like the tide over the sand.

Then he realises he's not alone in here.

In front of him is a desk. It is as though, mentally, he shrinks; overshadowed by what is leering at him. It is just a man. A man, only a man. Though he is… different. Behind a desk, he sits, a thick wiry beard bordering his mouth and eyes that are looking. But not seeing. White shirt sleeves are rolled, he has hairy arms, somehow even the tops of his fingers matted with thick coarse hair.

When the man opens his mouth, he reveals teeth. _Sharp_. Like knives. Or the rocks hidden in foaming tide that cut your toes open at the beach. The man has laughing eyes with an open mouth. A moon face. Glowing white. He's growing larger. Hugely larger than Ethan, larger than the room, until it seems like his head might make a hole in the sloping ceilings. Palms of hands pressed to the desk, now small underneath him, like he could crush it within a singular second. The man leans forward, and he _hisses_.

Ethan is stuck in the armrests. Hardly able to breathe, so crammed in his space. He watches the man, horrified, lips stuck together. Knowledge hits him; he knows he can't escape. He is for dead. He is stuck, _trapped_ , unable to move in this tiny space he is confined in. Small like a coffin.

All he can do is wait for the man to engulf him. To eat him alive. Large teeth almost pierce holds into the man's' own lips, mouth largely open because the teeth are just too big for it to be closed. Ethan's own mouth is jammed closed. Breaths coming in through the nose, the air too thick, hardly able to be breathed out.

Ethan closes his eyes. He cannot speak; he cannot look. As his eyelids protect his vision from this trauma, a horrendous screech echoes. Fear is carved into his eyelids.

Then there's bright light. It makes lit up spots grow in his blackened vision. Painful ones. His shoulders are being shook. Ethan knows the man is doing it. He lets out a pathetic whimper. Please. Please, don't.

The man is calling his name. Over and over. Wake up, wake up, he says.

"Ethan, Ethan, it's me, come on."

Ethan's hands are shaky, weak, but he manages to lift them. He begins pushing the man away. The voice is distorted, pitched differently, and he doesn't like it. There's hands still on him, going from light shaking to slightly harder yet still delicately. The heart of everything living is inside his ribcage.

"Wake up!"

Ethan snaps his eyes open.

"It's me," he says, sweat rolling down his forehead, terrified eyes snapped onto Ethan's. "It's _Cal_."

Ethan moves like an uncoiled spring. Right into their arms. Cal's arms, he realises. He is soft and breathing raggedly. Ethan hears a noise, ringing in his ears, bouncing off of the walls, and realises it's _him_. He's making the noise. Whisper-screams. Pants. It muffles in Cal's shoulder.

Then, there is hushing. Soft whispers. "It was just a bad dream. It's over now."

Ethan doesn't know how he's doing it, but Cal is rocking him left and right so ridiculously carefully that he feels like he is porcelain. Fragile and delicate. Held with too much care. Ethan grips ahold of Cal's sweatshirt. He smells like sleep and cologne that hasn't been washed off. Ethan rests his chin in the crook between Cal's neck and shoulder. He stays there whilst his dysfunctional body calms down.

Cal's hand runs shakily down Ethan's spine. Up and down. Despite the embarrassment of… this, he is relieved that he is not alone. Because sometimes, the worst part of the nightmare is when it's over; because you're left dealing with the consequences of it, the adrenaline pumping through your body, and you can't be sure if it really _is_ over or not.

Cal asks what happened. Ethan says it was a bad dream, deliberately vaguely; but that it's okay now. Cal smooths Ethan's hair. They sit silently, wrapped tighter now, as if they need each other's arms to just stay afloat.

When Ethan is awake properly, he begrudgingly makes himself pull away. Away from the soft familiarity, stroking hand, the scent of sleep from bedclothes and scents brought from town. He is embarrassed - it was just a nightmare, after all - but he finds a way to convince himself that they both needed the hug. Cal looks like he hasn't slept properly. Ethan feels guilt overpowering the disappearing embarrassment. Ethan speaks first.

"I'm sorry for waking you."

"You didn't. Don't feel bad."

The digital clock on the dresser reads that it's definitely past midnight. Lack of glasses make it hard to read, but if Cal's croaky nighttime voice and sluggishness is anything to go by, it's closer to the sunrise than sunset. Ethan squints. It's half past one.

They are lit up by an amber lamp glow. Tousled hair, hunched backs as they sit, slumped on the bed. Cal looks up.

"Tell me about it." Cal surprises him by saying.

Of course, it's barely shocking that Cal would ask such a question, as he's been attempting to be Ethan's number one port of call ever since he worked out something was wrong. The surprise is, Ethan realises, that he's one hundred percent comfortable with telling Cal about the ridiculous dream.

His voice is as croaky as Cal's; scratchy too. "It was stupid," he says weakly. "You and Mollie were arguing outside of an office I was in. I don't know what about. And I was trapped in the office. There was a man in there, who wasn't really a man, and he was going to attack me. Or eat me. I couldn't get out. I was trapped. I was… too big."

When Ethan lifts his head to see Cal's, it's bathed in light, the world's' tiniest faded smile on it. "You'll never be too big," is what Cal takes from that. "If you don't believe me, I'll measure you against a wall. What was it, last time we checked?" There's joking in Cal's tone, ceaselessly there, despite the underlying sleepiness. "I think you were four foot… ten?"

Ethan groans. "Cal. Don't."

"Five foot… two?"

"A bit bigger," Ethan mutters, but he's smiling. This is something Ethan doesn't mind being teased about. Something he doesn't mind. Cal knows this. It's why it's his number one go-to tease whenever he feels an obligation to be the typical cliche of a brother.

"Don't worry," Cal says, a bit more serious this time. "Please. Don't worry at all. Or try not to."

Ethan knows full well that this is said with utmost hypocrisy as he can almost smell the concern on him. But he appreciates the care, the comfort and the soberness from his brother, who, once, might've just laughed at Ethan in the grips of a nightmare and teased him later, without even asking what was wrong. Back when they weren't close.

"You said you were in an office. Like a counsellors office?"

Ethan begrudgingly nods. Evidently his worries have manifested into his dreams - of course, that is what nightmares do, transform your worries into tangible monsters - and Cal has worked it out. He is afraid. "Yeah. Exactly like that." Ethan shudders.

"Hey. Tomorrow will be fine. I promise."

A few minutes later, they know they have to get sleep, even though their bodies seem to be refusing to cooperate. Cal lingers by Ethan's door, as if he doesn't quite want to leave. Bitten nails tapping the door frame. He sighs, and watches, while Ethan rubs his eyes.

Selfless, Cal says, "I'm here if you need me. Just shake me awake."

It's appreciated. Deeply and wholly. Ethan watches as Cal goes, a childish longing for Cal to just stay, and tries to sleep. It comes easily that time.

When Ethan has another nightmare - that time the dream was entirely Cal centered, where Ethan tried to hug him but he shattered into irreparable pieces, and Ethan was left with cuts all over his fingers and no brother - he wanders into the kitchen. Too shaky to sleep. Cal is wide awake on the sofa, watching TV static, and he smiles up at him fondly. Ethan smiles back. Neither sleep properly that night, but it's okay.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's late - or early, depending on your perspective. Mollie has the house to herself for precisely five minutes. Since temporarily moving back in with her parents, it's been crammed with them and their many house guests. They went out at midnight. It's been an hour and a bit.

Presently, surprising mollie, someone sticks their keys into the door. It jangles loudly, loud footsteps delicately clicking down the hall.

"Mum?" Mollie calls out hopefully, hoping it's her and not some burglar with house keys.

"Sorry," she pokes her head around the partition separating the living room from the hallway. Her hair rests around her shoulders. "I forgot my jacket. And I just had to get away from your fathers friends for just one moment, even if it meant driving back here," she says. "On and on, they keep going." She pauses in thought. "Oh, yes, my jacket. Right."

Mollie huffs, the same way an eighteen year old version of herself might've. Then throws her mother's jacket - velvet, too expensive but beloved, every pocket used about a million times because her mother can't bare to ever go without her treasured item - by the cuff to her, crossing her legs. Her eyes fall on the window. The curtains are drawn, hiding an undoubtedly beautiful sky that the streetlamps would ruin.

Her mum doesn't leave. She leans against the wall, jacket cradled in her arms. Watching. Dad always jokes that she has an ability to sense when something is wrong. Like she can read minds. _My Deidre,_ he'll say, _never quite switches off her mind-reading, so always be careful what you think when you're around her._

"What's wrong, then?"

"You're going to be late again."

"No, I won't," she says, "but I might, if you don't tell me what's wrong. I'll wait."

Mollie rolls her eyes back.

"So childish. You must start acting your age, darling."

"I do act my age! I've got a boyfriend, a car, a proper adult job, I'm a _nurse…_ so forgive me for a bit of eye-rolling on occasion."

"There I was thinking you'd left the poor man."

Mollie fidgets uncomfortably. "I did leave him." Alright, tick boyfriend off that list of proof that she's grown.

"I'll never understand you, Mollie." She says it with heavy motherly concern laced in the tone. "I do wish you'd give yourself what you want without being frightened of the consequences. Maybe your feet always get cold because you never give them the chance to warm up."

Mollie looks up at her mother. Tall, waist length brown hair with silver strands near the crown, slender and smartly dressed. She can see herself in her mother. A mirror of herself, a fortune teller, showing who she might become one day, what her genetics have in store for her. Mollie wonders if she'll ever grow up enough to take herself seriously in flat buckled shoes.

"Speak to me. Or I'll kick you out, you know I will."

Mollie doesn't fight back a smile. She knows there's no way her mother would ever do such a thing. It was hard enough for her to convince her mum to let her move out in her twenties.

"I think I'm growing up. Even if you think I'm not," Mollie says eventually. "My boyfri- my _ex_ boyfriend's brother, I was trying to help him. You know, to be like a big sister. I was doing my best to be the mature one, because they were both in too deep to take a step back." Mollie doesn't go into it too much. "But I didn't really know how to do that," she admits. "Sometimes I felt like I was pretending to be a _mum_. Especially to Ethan. I don't know how to deal with this situation."

"From what I've heard, it doesn't sound good. Even someone who is amazing with people, like yourself, would struggle."

Mollie looks at the cushion on her lap "True."

"There's something else. It can't just be this. Tell me. I can fix it."

"Yeah, well, you were a part-time seamstress once and even you can't fix everything." It's a ridiculous point to make, she's deliberately being difficult, but Mollie can't find it in herself to tell her mother what she is expecting to happen in less than nine months. A _baby_.

Her mum goes quiet at that. There's a soft hum. Then nothing.

Mollie traces the edge of the cushion with a finger. "I don't like change, mum," she says eventually. More speaking on the baby part. But she doesn't admit this. She keeps vague. "I don't want to make this huge, scary, change where I can't go back on it. I don't want to be different, I'm happy with who I am."

"I'm not saying change _yourself_. Or make some drastic action, like getting a face tattoo or something. I'm just saying grow up, make yourself proud, and give others a chance. Please."

Mollie combs through the ends of her hair. Split ends. She's been neglecting her hair; it's unlike her. "Alright, mum."

"Promise me we'll have a chat when I get back in the morning? You know I'm staying with Bev's family tonight but do call me if you want to confide."

Mollie hopes her mum will forget about that. She's definitely not ready to spring the news on her as she's barely even told herself. "Yeah. If you like."

"I would," she says. Then her mum sticks her arms into her jacket, pulling her hair out of the collar. She zips it up in a swift motion. "Back soon, yes?" Soon meaning morning, in about eight hours.

"Mm hmm. See you."

There's footsteps down the hall again. Soft humming - her mum is, and always will be, a hummer. Then the door closes and there's crunching on the gravel. Mollie waits for a car door noise, the engine revving. It happens. Tyres roll down the road, car bathed in orange streetlamp light, loud and then silent. She is then alone.

Mollie stands, raking her hands through her hair underneath the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It's heavy and thick and like a blanket, wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She tries to move it into a heap atop of her head. It's already weighed down with worries. Mollie twists it and then lets it untwist, frizzing out.

It's just another problem she doesn't want to deal with. Admittedly, the issue of hair heating her up isn't as steep as an actual _baby_ or a relationship crisis that is so much deeper than usual or a sibling relationship with a person who isn't actually a sibling, but it's up there, and it's irritating her.

In a fit of annoyance, Mollie stomps to the bathroom and uses as many hair ties as she can find to pile it onto a bun. Just to get it out her face, so she can think. It turns out wonky. Mollie wants to claw her hair out.

It's the same hair she's always had. Long, brown, she's never cut it short. The most she ever had off was two inches, and she remembers crying when it was cut because the hairdresser dd it way too short. She was twenty-one.

Times have changed. _She_ has changed. Mollie is in her thirties now. She doesn't wear bows in her hair or jelly shoes and she certainly doesn't cry (... _that_ much, anyway) after unfortunate haircuts. Mollie likes to think she has grown, that she has evolved, even if her mum thinks she still has some way to go. She does. People are still growing up, even deep into their eighties.

This is the plan, she tells herself as she stares into the mirror. She wants this baby. Desperately. So she'll go through it all, the morning sickness, the backaches, the soreness, to get it. She wants to hold a baby in her arms with a loving husband by her side and a brother in law, healthy and happy, hand in hand with maybe a partner of his own.

And if Cal doesn't want to, she knows it'll hurt. Horrendously, at that. Like dull knives attacking her… right where she is growing something she so wishes for. Maybe he won't forgive her for leaving at such a vulnerable time. But he wasn't perfect either.

She can still have the baby if he doesn't want to, right? He wouldn't force her to abort it? Mollie feels shaky with uncertainty. Mollie wants to keep this baby. She just hopes she doesn't lose Cal in the process. Despite already losing Cal, it's still a glaring fear they could be finished for good.

Mollie feels her mobile in her pocket. She could call him now. Just for some sort of closure. Check he's alright. Arrange a time to meet, maybe at a coffee shop, have a catch-up and drop the news. Maybe. If Cal looks too mentally drained, it'll have to wait. Oh, what about Ethan? Mollie knows it's a bad time to drop news if Cal is trying to help him, and…

 _No_. This is about her now. What does she want? How is she going to grow up, to become someone better? To continue her life feeling like she isn't weighed down? She needs to make some sort of choice here, have some sort of change, and gather just a little control. Even a bit. What. Does. She. _Want_.

 _To get rid of my long, annoying hair._

Mollie acts on impulse. Same as ever. She doesn't plan, she doesn't think too into everything, she just jumps right in. Right into the ocean, hoping she'll manage to find a way out. Mollie fishes through the cupboard for scissors. They're rusty, sure, but they'll cut.

Split into two sections, she holds one in one hand. The scissors in the other. A couple seconds and one side will be gone. A couple more and she'll be free.

Change. It's time for some sort of change.

Mollie finds she's laughing as she cuts through her hair. It makes a strange noise, like a crunching, and she loves it. It sounds like freedom. Brown locks slide onto the floor, sticking to her clothes, right on her stomach which, right now, is growing a baby. One of her own. She is a vessel of two lives. That is _amazing_.

She moves onto the other side, hardly stopping for a breath. It's uneven, of course, but it's unimportant right now. It's so strange to feel the air on her bare neck, tips tickling her ears. As someone who barely wears her hair up, she is unused to this. It's the most remarkable change. Mollie cuts and cuts until she's satisfied. Her bathroom floor is coated with hair.

Mollie runs her hands through it. Fluffing it. It's framing her face, right about her cheekbones. It meets her earlobes. It's shorter than she's ever had it, and Mollie wants to cry in loss - but, at the same time, she wants to laugh in exhilaration. So that's what she does.

It's gone, it's all gone. But she doesn't care. It feels good. Mollie drops the scissors onto the cabinet with a clatter and laughs at the short-haired, smiley, exhilarated and pregnant woman in the mirror, and she's proud to know that that's _her_.


	30. 29: The Timer

**Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Hopefully he'll react well. Good point, it could be - thank you for your review._

 **casfics:** _Really glad you like the way the time was written - that's really nice of you. I didn't think it was good at all but am so pleased you liked reading it. Thank you for your review_

 **20BlueRoses:** _It's definitely not impeccable timing, but sometimes everything happens at once haha especially in fanfic. It's not good for Cal - well, for any of them right now. Very happy you liked the middle, aw, sibling relationships are complicated so it was good they were nice for once. Aw thanks, it means a lot to hear; and thank you for your review._

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Aw I'm pleased you liked how it was written - yes it's definitely hard to decide whether it's good or bad... time shall tell. Yeah nightmare one was based off of a similar one I had; being trapped is scaryyy. And YES good thing Cal being the Big Brother. Yes that is an issue, poor Cal. (Glad you loved that bit! Oh yes remember those). Well in Japan a haircut signifies change so I thought it'd work well, yes exactly. Aw I'm happy you enjoyed the chapter - thank you for your review_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Cal is frustrated.

Their appointment was cancelled. Shoved aside. Their GP is crammed; too many illnesses, too many problems, not enough medics to put the pieces together. Cal feels like he has to fight for another one, psyching himself up to give the receptionist a piece of his mind, yet it's ridiculously underwhelming when his phone call is as far from a battle.

"Sorry," the receptionist says coolly, "I'm afraid the earliest we have is next Friday."

"That's not very early at all!"

He's one of the lucky ones, he supposes, with a strong support network behind him - at least Charlie and Connie are helping too. Being text message support or the one who makes plans. Connie has several ideas on treatment centres that are far from Holby, because Cal mentioned there's no way in hell Ethan will be given help by colleagues. Ever.

Cal has fought his hardest. It is wasted, it seems. The receptionist simply apologises and that's it. Cal stares down at the phone and wishes he could launch it at the wall. Nothing is moving fast enough.

Ethan needs a blood test. It'll show nothing medical but it's precautionary; and Cal wants to be careful for once in his life. Then he needs a referral then something needs to happen. Something, at long last.

Cal doesn't have time for this. Not at all. Not when his brother is wasting away.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Mollie is conflicted.

It would be perfectly easy to just stop off round that same flat - her old home - and drop the news off like a parcel. As though it's easy enough to just roll off her tongue, like it's not a whole life she's announcing the arrival of. Yet whenever she thinks on it, she knows it's wrong.

 _It could be good,_ she thinks. _Cal might like this baby for a distraction_. Then she curses herself for even thinking that.

But it is not a distraction; it is a life. Not a game on a phone to pass the time or music to block everything out with or television show to sink into. A human that requires so much attention and deserves love. One that is already bigger than the size of a kidney bean, with a beating heart. She needs to know he's on board with this. Because she doesn't quite know if she can do it alone.

She doesn't have time for this. Yet she keeps waiting.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan is broken.

He can feel it, somehow. Right _in_ there. He does his best to ignore it but it's glaring, a reminder that he might never feel fixed again.

Cal keeps trying to convince him to function. It isn't working. He doesn't sleep properly or eat or drink or leave the flat. Even a bottle of water is difficult to stomach. Cold splashes into his empty insides and makes him feel chilly. He's already cold to begin with; shivering in the start of summer.

Every day is spent simply passing the time. He will sit and read or sleep or watch morning television or wait, just wait, until something happens. Which it never does. Mainly he paces, or listens to his brother, who sees to talk listlessly just to fill the silence. Or he feels himself being watched and pretends like he hasn't noticed; because Cal can hardly bear to keep his eyes off of him.

Ethan has an awful feeling that a timer has started. It feels like he's running out of time.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(One day later) 4th of July 2017**

"We need milk."

Ethan vaguely looks in Cal's direction. It's rare that Ethan tends to listen to his brother - conversations are more one-sided, Cal mainly muttering to himself as Ethan remains in a bubble. So these words feel pretty meaningless, and he turns back to his book. Ethan isn't too sure what it's about.

"Good book?"

"Reading," Ethan mutters - he hadn't heard the question. Good thing he hadn't because he certainly wouldn't be able to answer it.

Cal sighs a lungful out. "I wish you wouldn't switch off like that."

Ethan turns the page. He's close to the end already and it feels as though the main plot hasn't happened yet. It's either an awful book or he's been zoning out the whole time.

"We need milk," Cal repeats, "and more, actually, including those yoghurts you like," Ethan could laugh - he hates those yoghurts so much. "We need to go out."

 _Go out_. Ethan hears those words because they sound the loudest. "Can I stay?" Nothing sounds worse than going to a place where there are food and people - the latter being untrusting and judging, staring at him, as though he's unhinged. A walking corpse. A patient who'd flown the coop.

"I don't want to leave you alone."

"I'm an adult, I'm perfectly responsible," Ethan says.

"I know," Cal says, in a tone that sounds unsure; likely specifically at the end bit. "Come anyway. Just sit in the car."

"You'll be quicker on your own."

"Not if I'm texting you every five seconds, making sure you're alright."

Ethan is now fully engaged in this conversation. "That's unnecessary, what could possibly happen in the space of an hour?" Ethan is sure he's said those words to Cal before, but with an entirely different view point. A _lot_. A lot can go wrong in sixty minutes, or three thousand and six hundred seconds. A million awful things, it's a lottery to guess what.

"You tell me."

"I'm not going to do anything," Ethan insists, irritated.

Cal raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Nothing will happen."

"You know that I want to keep an eye. Try and make it easier. Every waking moment is spent thinking about you, trying to sort everything, and-"

"Well, I'm sorry for being a burden."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"We've already talked about everything," Ethan says, dramatically snapping his book closed. He won't remember the page number but he's indifferent to that. "You know I won't do anything… stupid. All I can give is my word, so here is my word. Now go."

"You really underestimate how much I care about you."

Ethan is momentarily stunned by the words, swallowing back any stirrings of slight emotion. "Cal," he says, back in the room, "just go."

"This is pointless, just come-"

"-go."

"-just come!"

"-Cal, just go!"

"Come!"

"Go!"

The doorbell rings.

Cal swings himself around without a second look to Ethan and to the door. "Coming!"

Ethan uses this time to compose himself. No emotion, no outward display of being bothered. Of course Cal doesn't trust him. It's obvious why. He's admitted to feeling suicidal. He's been caught doing harm to himself. And, maybe above all, he's in refusal to eat, and that affects everything in a huge way. If the positions were reversed, Ethan would be frightened for Cal's safety. He would be behaving the same way.

Ethan is ready to forgive Cal - and to ask for forgiveness, too - within a few seconds. He hears footsteps coming down the hall, and begins the improvised monologue.

"I shouldn't have snapped, and I apologise. I know you're just worried. But, honestly, that gives no excuse to treat me like a child. I'm perfectly capable of staying at home on my own."

"Ethan…"

"You should understand that a supermarket isn't exactly the most-" he looks up, knowing eye contact wins Cal over sometimes. Cal's hand is on his hip. He doesn't look like he's mad anymore.

"That was Lily," Cal interrupts. "She stopped by to check on us." He looks at Ethan, right in his eyes, like he can hear every thought in his head. "People are concerned that we haven't been in work for a while."

Ethan's throat is quite suddenly dry. "You could go back."

"Not when it's like this."

Ethan knows Cal loves his job. He also knows that Cal loves skiving off of it too. Maybe the excuse of Ethan is a good omen for him, an opportunity to have some days off of work with no questions asked. Part of Ethan believes that, but the bigger part of him knows that this is bollocks. Of course Cal isn't milking it. He godamn cares.

"Cal," Ethan breathes. "I'm sorry." He's not sure why. He just is.

Maybe it's the sacrifices. Maybe it's that Ethan feels like such a burden he _has_ to apologise.

Cal shifts his weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, so am I." They sit - and stand - in a little silence. It feels like a punishment.

"What… what did you tell Lily?"

"The truth."

"Being?"

"That you've got an eating disorder."

Ethan would feel sick, but there's nothing in him. "That hasn't been confirmed."

Cal looks at him like he's crazy. Like he can't quite believe Ethan is so… oblivious.

Cal doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns around and walks out of the flat. The door slams behind him.

 _You've got an eating disorder._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

A weight rests on him. As soon as he's sure Cal has left the premises, Ethan curls onto the sofa and stays there for what feels like hours and is likely only one. A dry husk of nothing. He keeps stumbling over different possibilities, trying to explore every single one. He doesn't know what to do.

It feels like he's going round and round in circles. If he was reading this part of his life right now, he'd get the book and chuck it somewhere. It. Is. So. Frustrating.

He doesn't even hear when the front door clicks open after less than an hour. Nor does he hear when Cal calls his name, when he drops shopping bags with those damn yogurts in on the counter. Not when he walks toward him. He barely even feels a presence right by him.

It's only when Cal is knelt in front of him, back of his hand pressed to Ethan's forehead, that Ethan notices him.

"I'm home," Cal says uselessly, as if he hadn't noticed. He presses Ethan's forehead again.

"Hi."

"Hi." He stays, crouched. "Feeling okay?"

Ethan parts his lips to say yes, but instead he whispers, "I'm sorry."

"No sorry's. None. You don't have to apologise for anything you've done."

"Will Lily tell everyone?"

Cal is quiet for a moment, the subject change clearly kicking him where it hurts. "Probably," he says after a while, "but only because they care and they're worried."

Ethan wants to bury his head and sob. He doesn't. Instead he looks away from Cal, curled still. "You're mad at me." There doesn't seem to be much evidence to back that, but it's logic which leads Ethan to that conclusion. _He's_ mad at himself. Just not sure what for.

"Not at you. Just at the situation. It's frustrating, Ethan. The NHS is… _fucking_ amazing, but it doesn't half lack the resources it needs sometimes."

Ethan thinks of a frightening possibility. "I don't want to go into hospital."

"Nobody has said that," Cal says, voice higher, like it's an apparent lie. He must sense Ethan's anxiety because he rubs his shoulder like he's trying to warm it up. "Trust me. You'll feel better soon. Really soon."

"Maybe. Then worse again."

"That's just life, Ethan. Ups and downs are part of it."

Ethan shrugs. Miserable. Cal goes quiet. "What?"

"If you're thinking about it again, I might have to take you to the ED this time."

"About what?"

Cal rests his knees on the floor. It seems like he's busying himself. Eventually, he manages to splutter the words, "if you're thinking about not being here anymore, then-"

"God, Cal, I'm not! Seriously, stop it. It was once, a-and I'd never act on it," he says. "You act like I'm going to storm out the door and walk into traffic."

Cal just looks more worried.

Eventually, he's given one last shoulder pat before Cal gives up on him. Well, puts the shopping away. He places a cup of milk for Ethan and then continues putting the groceries in the right places. Ethan has clearly changed Cal. He'd never put the groceries away otherwise. Cal used to be convinced that they floated into the cupboards, freezer and fridge on their own.

He listens to the noises. Cupboards softly closing, jars sliding across the unit, Cal's mindless humming, reusable plastic bags crinkling. He hears Cal eventually stop, and pictures him leant against the unit. There's the clinking of a glass against teeth. It's so quiet that Ethan even hears bare feet padding across the lino and carpet.

At some point, he lets go of consciousness. Ethan buries his face in the pillow, light blocked, and falls slowly into sleep. The milk goes warm on the side. He stirs a couple times but eventually, there's no choice but to succumb to it.

Ethan is fast asleep. So deep in slumber that he doesn't feel a sharp needle prick; or hear Cal on the phone as he calls Charlie to do a blood test.

He dreams of hospitals and wakes up shaking, whilst Cal smiles comfortingly at him from the other end of the room.

Unbeknownst to Ethan, Cal is scheming; trying to work out how to make Ethan's worst nightmare come true quicker in the name of love.

 **a/n:** _hope this is ok. might seem a bit slow but ya know, the NHS is amazing but nothing is done fast unless you're dying usually. i really hope you're enjoying this all._


	31. 30: Disquietude

**InfinityAndOne:** _Cal is definitely slipping into dangerous territory. All he wants is the best for Ethan but it might not work out in his favor. (Aw good!). Exactly, unfortunately there's just not enough to go round; but we're lucky to have it still. Aw you're the sweetest ahh, thank you for your review!_

 **Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _Ah I'm glad to hear. She really is in a lot of turmoil. Ethan would probably act very badly to that, which is why Cal did the test while he was asleep - sneaky sneaky. Thank you for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Very sad indeed. Especially when the person is in dire need of help. We'll see about that! That means a lot to hear, thank you for your review!_

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 **(1 day later) 5th of July 2017**

" _The blood test came back clear."_

Charlie's words from the other end of the line manage to both relieve and scare Cal. Ethan is fine, the weight loss is definitely self-inflicted - somehow it's a comfort and additionally a nightmare storyline.

But there's no other physical illness going on. Ethan is fine in that respect. Just fine. It's definitely something that's going on up in his head; something that obviously is just as important as a physical illness, and needs proper care, and Cal will provide it. Cal breathes more calmly than he did before.

"Thanks, Charlie," Cal says gratefully. He's relieved Charlie managed to do this so efficiently; it worked out well, even if it was remarkably sneaky and likely a starter to a future argument. Ethan wouldn't be able to grasp that Cal had betrayed his trust for his own good. "That was fast."

" _Yes, well, we don't particularly have time on our side, do we?_

Cal already knew that, but hearing someone he trusts say it makes him fear time even more.

" _Is he going into treatment soon?"_

"Yes. Very soon - like, sometime this _week_ soon, the day after the 'official diagnosis' soon. I mean, it's not like I haven't guessed the diagnosis."

" _Good. I'm really glad it's sorted."_

"Me too."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **(1 day later) 6th of July 2017**

"Isn't that brilliant, Ethan?"

Ethan blinks at his brother - Cal is dosed up on caffeine, dressed in those jeans that mean he feels better, because sweats have always ever shown Cal isn't feeling like himself, and perched on the edge of the sofa, smiling, waiting… so proud of himself. So relieved.

Ethan isn't. He is not pleased at all.

There's nothing _brilliant_ about needing an appointment with a psychiatrist. There is nothing worth smiling about that it's in a few hours because Cal claimed Ethan is an emergency; or some other bullshit that got him bumped up.

Ethan swallows back all appreciation and slams the bedroom door behind him.

As much as Ethan denies it, he knows he has a problem. Yet the thought of trying to… _solve it_ , that makes his chest tighten.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Obviously they knew it was bad before. Ethan has already spilled his heart out to Cal, admitting more than he thought he ever would to his brother. He'd cried into his shoulder and broke in the cradle of his arms and yet, he still can't get the words out presently.

The psychiatrist eyes him with a practised detached look.

Cal tells the psychiatrist - named Dr Yaw, a man with a wiry beard and kind brown eyes - everything. Even the difficult parts. The ones that make Ethan's stomach twist strangely and his shoulders shake. Ethan sits with his hands in his lap and wishes he weren't here.

He knows he should be grateful that he's being given free and immediate treatment by the NHS, by a sympathetic doctor - it's a service which deserves nothing but praise for its relentless hard work, though that's not to say it's not damn difficult sometimes, what with waiting lists and too little space and overworked medics with bosses just too keen to fill a quota. Ethan is well aware of medical world politics and should be far more grateful than he currently is. Yet he can't find any appreciation in him. Not a snatch, especially not when Dr Yaw carefully asks:

"How long ago was it when you had thoughts of ending your own life?"

Ethan shudders and looks at a mural of a woman on a boat, painted flowing skirt around her ankles, lillies in the water. He sees Cal, who isn't doing very well on the eye contact front either.

"A couple days ago."

Dr Yaw's eyes widen. He looks from Cal, to Ethan, and then back to Cal. "Did you try to act on these desires?" He questions, eyes still mainly fixed on Cal.

"No, it was only thoughts." The _only_ was used in attempt to undermine such an awful truth. _Only_.

Dr Yaw puts it best. "There's no _only_ about it," honestly, Ethan is sure that, if anyone else said it, it'd sound cruel. Yet Dr Yaw sounds only professional. "As soon as these thoughts were expressed, it would've been appropriate to go straight to your nearest emergency department. Suicidal ideation is a medical emergency, if anyone presents with this then it's necessary to take them immediately to a hospital even if they _seem_ to be feeling better." Dr Yaw sounds quite apologetic, but Cal is still irked as it seems to be aimed at him.

Ethan jumps in quickly. "It's not Cal's job to look after me or take me places. I am a perfectly responsible adult." _Apparently_.

"We know that," Dr Yaw says, "but, regardless of whether he is a brother, friend, anything, he should've brought you in if you weren't in a state yourself to."

"I felt better after I admitted it."

Dr Yaw nods again in an unbelieving way. He's clearly had a lot of practise at looking past facades. "What happened next?"

Ethan thinks on it. He recalls a quiet walk home, a couple phone calls by Cal as Ethan curled onto the sofa and eventually fell asleep. He woke up with Cal checking his pulse, and felt so awful that he almost cried again. Ethan presently doesn't meet his brothers eyes, who is trying to make eye contact from beside him, as he knows he's replaying these memories.

"We just went home," Ethan says. "Watched TV. Fell asleep. Cal booked a GP appointment, which got cancelled eventually. But we had a plan."

Dr Yaw seems hung up on one part of his sentence. "Went home? Did you leave your home to attempt suicide? Did Cal have to come and get you?"

"No," Ethan says shakily. "They were all cornering me and I just had to get out."

"They?" Dr Yaw eyes his computer, then looks back at Ethan. "Are you hearing voices? Has this come on suddenly?"

"No!"

"Ethan," Cal puts a hand on his knee. "Let the man do his job."

"I'm not hearing voices," Ethan says. His hands are trembling, and he's positive that his knees are shaking too. Even if he gathered the courage to flee, he'd surely crumble like a sandcastle under a foot. "Cal called our colleagues to come round. That's the 'they' I meant."

Dr Yaw nods. "I'm sorry, I misunderstood for a moment there," he smiles. "Why did they come round?"

"I…" Ethan looks down, watching Cal's hand curl around his knee tighter. He wants to hold it but he doesn't have the courage to. Instead, he looks up at Cal, apologetic because he can't say the words, and equally as apologetic that he'll have to and Cal will have to hear them.

Cal clears his throat when there's a monumentally long silence. "Ethan had self-harmed." Ethan very suddenly feels his stomach lurch.

Dr Yaw doesn't seem surprised. "Right."

"I wasn't too what to do," Cal admits; there's such a calm, collected air to his voice that Ethan is momentarily stunted by pride. Caleb Knight - finally growing up, and all it took was for Ethan to fall apart.

"Was it bad? Did you need medical assistance?"

"More support. It wasn't life-threatening, but they were quite violent… slashes. I felt more comfortable with our colleagues - a nurse and clinical lead - with us, and hoped they'd be able to help."

Ethan wraps his arms around his stomach. He feels sick. Cal's hand moves from his knee to his shoulder. There's a scraping of a chair leg against the ground as he moves closer, and they're crammed next to eachother.

"Ethan," Dr Yaw says in a calm voice. "I must ask - was _that_ an attempt to end your life?"

"No, I-I just wanted to hurt." Ethan looks about the room. There's nothing to be sick in. He feels sweaty around the collar.

"Was this the first time you'd ever cut?"

"Can we not do anymore questions?"

"He needs to ask, mate," Cal says, remarkably softly for someone who is loud by nature. And the _mate_. It makes Ethan feel strange because it's only ever _Eth_ or _nibbles_. "We won't get much out of this if we just sit in silence."

Ethan knows he's being illogical. In apology for saying something he thought of as semi rude, he answers as he's meant to. "I'd done it before," he admits quietly.

"Sorry?"

"He said he'd done it before," Cal repeats, and his voice wobbles. Ethan momentarily feels glad of the help; then he feels ashamed that he's behaving so weakly that his brother has to help him talk.

"Right. So we've got the self-harming by cutting, by the refusal to eat and deliberate vomiting at points, that Caleb has said over the phone, and additionally we've got suicidal thoughts." Dr Yaw leans back in his chair and scratches his beard. "I do wish I'd have seen you sooner."

"Well, you're seeing me now," Ethan says with a forced and admittedly weak smile.

"I am. And that's a feat in itself." Dr Yaw says, so supportively that Ethan wonders if this man has children - if he does, he's officially jealous. "I know it's cliche, but all the bad ones are usually true. Admitting that there's a problem is the first step to becoming a better self. Have you admitted it to yourself yet?"

"I guess so."

"That doesn't sound very confident!"

"It's not," Ethan says. "But… I don't know, I know what I'm doing isn't _normal_. And I know it's scared some people."

"Nobody is normal, Ethan. But you are right - you've scared people. You're frightening yourself too, I'd have thought?"

"A bit."

"A lot, I'll say," Dr Yaw straightens up, eyes focused on is computer. He presses at the keys thoughtfully. "I understand it's a very hard question," he says, the screen reflected in his eyes, "but I'd like to know why you don't eat. That's the root of all of this. Once we work that out, we'll be in a better place."

The sick feeling comes back. It bubbles in Ethan's stomach and threatens to creep into his throat. He can't quite taste it, but he knows it's _there_. "I don't know," he mumbles.

"You said it was, I don't know, a coping mechanism." Cal fills in. "Because it was just a diet at first, until it got out of hand."

Ethan turns his head. "Yeah." He quietens his voice. "Cal, I don't need you to speak for me."

"I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," Ethan refuses, unable to stop now he's started. The previous gratefulness disintegrates. "I am not a child."

"Children aren't the only ones who need guidance sometimes," Dr Yaw interrupts the conversation he'd been watching unfold.

In a fit of annoyance, he blurts, "I don't need help. I'm fine, I know it's under my control and it always will be. Neither of you need to try and help. Because it's sorted, and it's fine, better than fine. Controllable. It's _good_ for me."

And he doesn't mean it. Ethan doesn't mean a single godamn actual fucking _word_ of it. He wants to say this as Dr Yaw dissects the sentences apart, but he's too busy, frozen, sickness creeping into every part of his body.

"I'm unsure of the _'it'_ you're referring to, but there is nothing about what you have been doing that is good for you."

"I know," Ethan mutters, staring at his hands, and he _does_ know. He digs crescent shapes into his fingers.

"I don't think you do know. I think there's still denial, which is no surprise. I'm unsure if you're able to see it from our perspective at the moment."

"I can!"

"I really do not think so," Dr Yaw says. "I'm very sorry, Ethan, but I'm concerned that you are going to cause serious harm to yourself. "

"I'm _not_!"

"Ethan," Dr Yaw says softly. "I believe you're suffering with anorexia."

"Please," he mutters, "don't say that."

Dr Yaw seems apologetic. Ethan doesn't understand why. Then Dr Yaw continues and it fits into place.

"I'm going to make some phone calls," he pauses as if to soften the monumental blow, "because I believe it's in your best interests to be admitted to a ward."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

It's not quite a section - more of an order - but it feels like a knife to the gut. Ethan takes the news of needing hospitalization, _as soon as possible, I'm afraid_ , as if it's a death sentence.

As soon as possible. That means tomorrow, Ethan realises.

He's going into hospital _tomorrow_.

Ethan can't stop replaying it, over and over. It's going to keep him awake on his _last_ night in _his_ bed.

As soon as they step out of the surgery, Ethan has immediately turned in the wrong direction, away from the car park, far from Cal, eyes dragging through neat flower beds. He stares down at a dull grey slab, rests his back against a wall, and gags before he realises he's going to do it.

Cal is there. _Immediately_. Of course he is. "You're okay," Cal reassures, his own special mantra. "If you need to throw up, just do it. Don't hold it back. Get it out."

Ethan coughs and coughs but nothing comes out. He supposes there's nothing to throw up. And, additionally, it's far more an emotional feeling of sickness than physical.

"I know it's sad, and you're afraid, but listen. We needed to know. God, we already did know. You're not well, Ethan, and-"

"I'm not well, yes, but I'm also a doctor, a person, a son and a brother and maybe one day a husband or a father s-so stop branding my entire existence off of this one thing! Please!"

Cal stops, stunned. "I wasn't trying to do that."

 _But I think I am. That's what I'm doing._ He leans against the brick wall and ignores disapproving looks from passersby, who likely assume that he's got a raging hangover.

"Ethan, we need to stop arguing. This is the worst time to be at loggerheads."

"When is there ever a good time?"

"There's better times," Cal says, "like when this isn't my last day seeing my brother before he goes into hospital."

 _Tomorrow-tomorrow-tomorrow… it's all happening tomorrow..._

They walk in sweltering heat back to the car park. Ethan is still feeling wobbly, but does his best to walk on his own two feet.

"Why do I feel sick?"

"It's the shock. Everything catching up with you. Definitely nothing indicating you're physically crumbing, so don't be worried."

"How'd you know?"

"I'm a doctor!" Cal laughs shakily as they sit in the car. He starts it up, pulling the visor down and one-handedly steers as he pulls at the gear stick.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

Cal's free hand clamps onto the wheel. "Don't even worry about it. It's sickness from fear and anxiety; and I'm hardly surprised, because it's a big deal. But try not to get yourself in a state. It's not good for you." He indicates right, car ticking. "I know you're worried, but I promise it'll all be fine. You will be fine."

"Really?"

"Of course! We will both be fine, even. I'll tell you all about the clinic when we get home."

"Clinic?"

"Yes, Mr Questions. Don't fret. It's a decent place, okay? I promise. You're going to be fine. Everything shows you'll be fine, what with this promising plan, Dr Yaw saying you're doing the right thing, like, it's working out. Even the blood te-"

Cal stops. The conversation stops. Ethan turns his head immediately to look at him.

What?

The world has stopped moving and the air is sucked out of the planet, blood has ceased to flow, the car has lurched to an imaginary halt. The dual carriageway seems to have disappeared. Ethan leans forward, the seat belt cutting into him, and wants to be sick. Again. Everything he ever ate in his decades of being alive is churning inside of him.

And Cal knows why. He bloody well knows he's fucked up. Ethan can see it on his face; his sad, worried, guilty face. He can almost hear the several choruses of _oh shit oh shit oh shit_ running through his head.

"Cal," he breathes through a fresh bout of nausea, chest heaving, as if he's about to cry even though he's not. "Cal, what blood test?"

"Right, you need to-"

"I trusted you!" Ethan throws himself back into the chair so forcefully that his head spins. "I trusted you, I trusted you…"

Cal has stopped the car. He moves quickly, as if moving fast will solve this. If he splutters the words quickly enough, gets it out before the true anger kicks in, this will all be resolved. "Ethan," he puts his hands on his shoulders, but Ethan pushes them away. "Come on, you know I did it for the best. I had to know."

"When did you do it?"

Cal turns back. His eyes fix on a mess of bushes, smudges of green and dots of purple. "Yesterday. You were asleep."

"I can't believe y- well, actually, I can, this is exactly the sort of thing you'd do!"

"Ethan, if you were in my shoes, you'd feel the same! Trust me, you'd act the same. I just had to know-"

"Did you not believe the fact that I can't eat? T-that every time I do, I get this overwhelming crushing feeling, as if I've let someone down, like I'm failing? That I'll never be happy again? And my stomach churns and I feel ill and I can't breathe. I hate it. So much. Yet it's the best thing in my life, the _best_. Doesn't that just make you want to _die_?"

Cal's lip shakes. "I never doubted you had an eating disorder. I just wanted to check nothing else was wrong too. I'm trying to keep you safe."

"By lying?"

"You wouldn't have agreed! Listen, sometimes a small white lie is necessary. Nobody got hurt!"

" _I_ got hurt," he shouts, contrasting against Cal's desperate mumbling pleas. "I'm hurt that you _lied_ to me when I'm trying to _trust_ you."

"You have to try and see this from my point of view."

"No, Cal," he says. Despite everything, he regrets it immediately as he spits: "I will _never_ trust you again."


	32. 31: Run or Die

**20BlueRoses:** Ah your educated guess was sadly correct! Well, Ethan is stubborn by nature, so we'll see where that goes haha. Aw! I am so glad to hear that - thank you so much for your review as always, it means a lot.

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 **(Same day) 5th July 2017**

Ethan knows that this is the worst possible thing to do, but he hates Cal so much right now that he'd light the flat on fire just to watch Cal's face as it burns.

He ought to be home. He needs to be, because tomorrow is a day which he can't miss in fear of a possible section. Go willingly, or go anyway. Ethan wants to go with his head held high but additionally, he doesn't want anyone to see his tears.

Nevertheless, this is a horrendous idea, and it's not even a plan. Just go home, a part of him says. And a bigger, more glaring part of him, hisses to never go home again.

And they won't stop arguing - the thoughts, that is. One thought will begin, another one will cut in the middle of it, until they're all too loud. A huge chorus of opposing beliefs and ideas. They're pushing him off of the edge. They're making him feel crazy. Everything is too loud, far too loud. Like when your hearing is muffled and then returns to normal, the sudden change is shocking. Too much too soon. Ethan can't bear it.

So maybe it's time to make it all stop.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Calling his ex-girlfriend might be… awkward, but Cal knows it's the only place Ethan will go.

She picks up on the first ring. _"Hello?"_

"Hi. Cal here." _Cal here_ , wow, original, where are we, some two-star rating film with more cliches in it than female characters? "I hope you don't mind me calling. I was wondering if Ethan had stopped by."

" _It's fine, and no. Everything alright?"_

Cal could explain everything. Instead, he drums his fingers along the kitchen counter and nods his head to nobody. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Speak to you later."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

There's a song stuck in his head.

Something about thinking on the sadder parts of living. Mourning something; someone, a place, a feeling, it's open to interpretation, Ethan supposes. A gentle guitar strumming pattern in the background. About love being suffering, that the world turns, and autumn leaves, and Ethan realizes he's remembering the lyrics backwards.

One lyric sticks. _I can see where the chapter ends._

Maybe it ends this way.

Because right now, he is the worst kind of alive.

Ethan stands up high. Behind him, cars pass, and his front is pressed against a barrier, where below him, the dual carriageway is filled with more cars, vans, lorries... Fast and strong. Relentless and unforgiving. They roll over the tarmac, crushing rocks and leaving marks. He wants to turn around walk in traffic. He wants to topple over the edge into the lines of cars below. He wants this to be over; the hostility which brings the arguments and the sadness and the loneliness and the fear that he might never be happy again.

He could do it. Right now. Just step into traffic and call it quits. Push the weak metal barrier and fall. Y _ou did your best, but the game is over. You lost! The monsters won. Retry? No. No retry. I'm damn sick of this game._

Ethan shakes his head. No, come on. Time has gone past this. Back at the park, he was contemplating this, and he fought the urge. He won't do it now. He. Is. Past. This.

 _You were never past this. You can't silence me._

Ethan's fingers tighten around the barrier. He doesn't want to die.

 _But you don't want to live, isn't that the same thing?_

No, it is not the same thing. And he does want to live!

 _From what I see, you don't. You have no prospects, no future. Nobody wants you, Cal is happy to see the back of-_

"Shut up!" He shouts. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Somehow, despite everything he's ever done - starving, cutting, fighting, running away… this is the one which sinks it in further that he's truly lost it. Shouting at nothing whilst passersby watch, wondering if this distressed man will jump, or if he'll swear at the air instead.

"I'm not crazy," he says to himself. "Well, maybe I am. No, no, I'm not. I'm... something else. I-I don't know. I don't feel right."

 _You'll never feel right._

"I have to. It'll get better, that's what everyone keeps saying."

 _They are lying._

"They can't be!"

 _They are! They are lying every time they say they love you, every time they say they're here for you. Nobody on this earth wants you here._

Ethan stares over the edge, looking past his now white knuckles. The drop is immense. He leans against the barrier, something he never thought he'd do, and wonders the likelihood of death if he were to slip. It's high. And nobody would believe it was an accident, they'd know he had done it on purpose, but he wouldn't be alive to see their reactions so maybe it would be okay, as selfish as that was to think.

Ethan parts his lips and tastes salt in the air. It reminds him he's alive. He's alive and maybe he shouldn't be. Maybe it's easier to just go.

He rests onto it, more this time. Any moment now, the reasons why will infect his brain, and he'll make the hasty choice to plummet to his death to avoid hearing them.

"I'm going to kill myself." His voice is brittle and quiet. Questioning, too, like he doesn't quite believe himself.

His actions are stronger than his words. He feels his feet barely touching the ground, he's going to go, he knows it, just one more lean, one shuffle, he'll be over this barrier and down and down and down… falling and falling. He won't even feel the impact.

It is time to go.

The chapter ends here.

Ethan closes his eyes, takes one last breath, and-

"Excuse me?"

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Cal sits on Ethan's bed with no tears down his face, but the old notebook between his fingers (the one Mollie told him about once). He's packing Ethan's room up - because he's going tomorrow, as soon as they eventually reconcile, no matter what, as the waiting game is over - and came across it, tucked in curls of clothes. He knows he shouldn't read it; it's not like Ethan is dead, where privacy is kind of a noot point if so. But he does anyway.

He'd expected to be upset; in general, and whilst reading through this. Now it just feels like the world could fall apart and Cal would be indifferent.

Not that he is indifferent about this situation. His brain is too busy thinking of awful scenarios that his body can't hurt yet, but he knows it'll come. As soon as he sees Ethan again, he knows he'll fall apart; because it'll be one last hello before a goodbye, and they won't be seeing eachother as regularly anymore.

God. _Anyway_.

This notebook-thing started out so innocent. Cal reads the first of the dieting, in the early months. It's almost healthy. Like a dedicated new years attempt to lose weight - exactly what it was. Then it gets worse and worse and Cal is wondering how he didn't lose his brother. How, somehow, he cheated death, because this lack of nutrition is surely going to kill anyone.

Cal snaps it closed after reading a particularly disturbing entry in the notes from a while ago: _If I had to go to the hospital, I'd kill myself. There's no purpose of anything. None. I don't see a point._

If he did that, Cal wouldn't know what to do. They're not meant to be apart.

Cal picks up his phone and calls Mollie again.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan is startled. There's a guy looking at him with his back to the main road. Inquisitive blue eyes and jet black hair. His hands are fidgeting by his sides, wrist joint rolling. There's a cigarette between his fingers but he drops it and stubs it out.

"It's probably none of my business, so tell me to piss off," the man says, "but what's going on?"

Ethan is lost for words. He could easily fall now to avoid explaining this mess - and to go, because he _has_ to go - but instead, his feet stay planted firmly to the ground.

"Uh… piss off?"

The man laughs. "It's not meant to be a question."

"You're a stranger," Ethan challenges, "you're not _meant_ to pay attention to what others are doing. That's not the way it goes in England. You're not meant to care."

"What sort of person would I be if I watched as someone edged closer to that weak barrier?"

"One that minds their own business."

"My business isn't that interesting."

"So get a new life."

"No thanks," the man says. "I'd much prefer trying to stop you from ending yours."

"I'm not going to do that." Yes. He is. Ethan would very much like to take a few more steps forward, until he falls down, down and down. He wants the impact and that deafening roar of traffic and the grumble of tarmac underneath. The push of air as he falls. The crack as he doesn't wake up again.

The end of life, come too soon. That is what he wants.

Isn't it?

The man watches him; _studies_ , even. Then he thrusts his hand out. "Noah. That's my name. The same name that's in a lot of books, mind, I'm not interesting enough to ever be written about. Most fictional Noah's can play the guitar or piano or seduce a girl by winking but all I can do is make a recorder out of a carrot." He keeps his hand out. "Nice to meet you."

Tentatively, Ethan shakes it. It feels surreal, traffic squealing by below and behind them. His hand is still on Noah's, and as if the world just speeds up for a moment, he hears air, feels it, and he is pulled from leaning against the barrier.

"Stop!"

Noah looks apologetic but he doesn't stop. Ethan has no power over him; he's weak, and despite Noah's skinny frame, he has the advantage. Noah is gentle, but he is firm. He's pulled away from the main road, and the barrier, until they're on a patch of grass, near some red postbox, close enough to hear the cars passing but not close enough to be killed by them with just a few more forward steps. Ethan drags his hand out of Noah's and begins to walk on the path back to the place he was, above that bridge, so he can watch traffic.

"I know what you're thinking," Noah says as he follows, voice carrying. "But it gets better. You never believe that's true until you're the one saying it to someone else, and you realize the person who first told you that was saying the truth." Noah quietens, and then says louder, "I promise you it does."

Bullshit. "Hasn't so far."

"It will."

"I've messed up. Ruined so many things. Thrown people's efforts back in their faces and hurt them." One person. But one person is a million people to Ethan.

"You fucked up? Welcome to the club, mate. There's like seven billion of us."

Ethan turns his head watches this man; grinning, yet sympathetic, somehow, and doesn't believe he's real. There's surely wings tucked behind his back or a halo hidden in the mess of hair. "Why are you being nice? Why bother?"

"Just _because_."

They're standing by that same barrier, and Ethan suddenly realises he's terrified of heights. Ethan's lips part, and he's about to try and say something, anything, but he can't think of anything to say.

 _I've won, says the nasty, angry little part of him. I've won and I have broken you. I've taken everything and now I'm going to kill you too._

Ethan looks over the edge. His fingers skim the dusty metal. One slip and he's dead.

Does he want to be gone?

"What happens when we die?"

"Better question," Noah says, "what happens when you live? Million of possibilities. They aren't gonna happen if death takes you. If you let it."

Ethan grips the metal tighter. His body is frozen, stuck on this spot.

"But…"

"I can't save you," Noah says. "Not at all, no way. But you can save yourself. Make the right choice, dude."

Ethan looks at the bridge, at Noah, at the world around him. Sunlight glows on Noah's face. There's laughter in the distance. The universe is happy even though he isn't.

 _If you were looking for a sign not to kill yourself, this is it._

"Go," Noah says quietly. "Run."

 _Go. Kill yourself._

Noah's voice echoes. Go. Run.

Run or die. Run or die.

It's crunch time. What choice?

Run or die run or die run or-

Ah, for... He will run.

Ethan nods. He keeps nodding, and nodding, and then he's walking away, _somehow_ , and Noah is too. One quick grin. Ethan turns on his heel and goes, right to he-doesn't-know-where, and when he turns his head to see Noah, he's almost gone too. Hands thrust in pockets. Hair hiding the nape of his neck. Ethan will never see him again. But he will never forget him.

Run. Run. He keeps going. Then he remembers that damn song again. It's Jake Bugg. The same lyric crops up, about chapters coming to an end. The melancholy rhythm runs alongside the blood pumping in time to his fast footsteps.

The thoughts don't go. _Idiot! Idiot, you were meant to die! Just go!_

"No!" He says to himself, breathless. "I'm not going to do that."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

He knocks, first softly, then hard. Over and over. He keeps knocking until his hand hurts and there's shouting. A key is jammed into the front door. It swings open, and she is a bedraggled mess of brown hair piled atop of her head and a loose dress around her knees. It is past eleven in the morning yet she looks like she has just crawled from bedsheets.

"Ethan?"

"Mollie," he says, desperately, and his stomach is squeezed with a metal fist. "Going to be sick." He's guided inside the otherwise empty house, over a porcelain sink and then, only then, does he manage to throw up all the nothing inside of him. Finally.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"I heard."

Ethan flinches at the sudden press of freezing water. "Cold, cold."

"Sorry," Mollie says, pulling the flannel away and squeezing water droplets out of it into the precautionary bowl on the tiled floor that they're sat on. She presses it against his forehead again. "Better?"

Ethan manages a shaky nod. It does feel much better. It's hot today, and he's burning in his long sleeves.

"What… what did you hear about?"

"Everything," she says vaguely. "Alright, nothing. But Cal called. I know why you're here because he informed me on the second - more frantic, I might add - phone call."

Ethan is shocked that she's being so calm about it. "I-I wasn't going to do it, Mollie. It was just thoughts."

"Just thoughts? What are you talking about?"

"The…" Ethan realises he could be about to dig himself a huge hole. "Maybe we're not on the same page, what do you mean?"

"The argument with your brother, and the place you're meant to be tomorrow… you wanted to have some time out and I get that."

And she doesn't know about the thoughts. Ethan decides to keep it that way. Otherwise she'll just want to talk about it and he's unsure how to explain it. He keeps it bottled.

It's very funny how close you can come to death, and nobody will ever know it. Like balancing on a tightrope - only you will know how wobbly you are, how close you'll come to falling, and the witnesses will just see a vaguely struggling acrobat walking along that line and assume that the acrobat will be fine.

Suicide is frightening because nobody ever sees it coming. Nobody knows. You could be sitting with people having lunch and they wouldn't be able to read your mind, they wouldn't know why your eyes were glued to that bread knife, why you're so distant. Nobody knows but you. Nobody knows but him.

Ethan wants to keep it that way.

If there's anything scarier than contemplating death, it's admitting that you are.

Mollie doesn't suspect anything. She shuffles on the cold bathroom floor. "I'm sorry I left."

"I'm sure you had your reasons." Truly, he's had more on his mind, so he isn't too focused on the mini-drama.

"Maybe. Right now, none of them seem good enough to leave my family."

Ethan smiles weakly. So many weak smiles today. "We're your family?"

"I'd like to think so."

Her hand fixes around his. Fingers tangled. Ethan lets the flannel cool him down and her hand stay with his, intertwined. Maybe she's the sister he never had; the child who would practise painting nails with his, the teenager who would kick him out of sleepovers, _you're so annoying, leave us alone_ , and the adult who would always be there somehow.

"I'd say I love you just as much as Cal - but unfortunately, I think he has more love in him than you and I combined," she says. "Please. Don't hate your brother."

"I don't hate him," Ethan says quietly, and finds he means it. "I was just angry."

"I know. I know." Mollie says. "It's all going to work out. I promise you."

Is it?

"Promise?"

"I promise," she's starting to look concerned now. "Ethan, where did you go? I know everything isn't alright, but… you weren't planning on doing something stupid, were you?" He hasn't got the strength for a believable lie, and he isn't willing to tell her the truth, either, so he's stuck.

Ethan stares at the bathtub instead of meeting her eyes. "Please don't leave me," he manages. He doesn't say why. He doesn't tell her what he's contemplating, what he's doing his best to talk himself out of. Maybe he doesn't have to.

"I won't. I swear I won't." He believes her.


	33. 32: Family

**20BlueRoses:** _Ay glad to hear it was alright! Thank everything for Noah indeed. Agh I'm so happy you liked that one line. Precisely - positivity, in its most subtle form haha. With any luck yes! And you are spot on, the song referenced was "Slide" by Jake Bugg, should've mentioned that, sorry whoops. Thank you loads for your review!_

 **casfics:** _And you're lovely! Aw I'm so happy you hear that you liked the way it was written. Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Aw dude I'm smug you think so! Really is sad. It is, strangers can often be so lovely. Definitely the blood test drama is unneeded (and totally unnecessary, Marie, why do that) because he needs support not to put more walls up! Happy you like that! Hopefully Cal will find out about Ethan's contemplation - when is the question. Aw! Thank you for your two-in-one review I really appreciate it!_

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 **(1 day later) 6th of July 2017**

 _Greenview Residential Clinic._

 _Based south east of England, this clinic is catering to those struggling with eating disorders. A mix of a hospital and a treatment centre, there are wards alongside rooms to stay in for those who are not acutely unwell._

 _For those with anorexia nervosa (see below for more on different eating disorders), food must be introduced carefully and gradually. High calorie nutritional drinks are sometimes part of the diet. Once improvement is made, people are given choice over meals and, on occasion, allowed to cook later on. People have pointed out how important good food is for someone in recovery for an eating disorder, and how 'frozen and vacuumed' food is not helpful; we keep this in mind._

 _On occasion, if people refused to eat or their low weight was threatening their life, they could be fed through a nasogastric tube. It is a psychologically challenging experience, as ex-patients have claimed it makes them feel "out of control" and "alone". However, on the other side, some say it had worked well; they used the nasogastric tube as an incentive to get better so they wouldn't need it anymore._

"Have you not finished reading that yet?"

Both Mollie's words and the abrupt feeling of the car tyres rolling over a particularly large bump shake Ethan into listening. He looks up, through the window shield, where they're making a left into a dual carriageway.

A similiar dual carriageway he was stood above yesterday when he was considering-

Ethan bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. It's like sucking pennies. It's disgusting, obviously, but it keeps his mind off of everything else.

They haven't spoken about yesterday, nor the early hours of today. Mollie didn't ask why his knuckles were bleeding (he had to make himself sick, he just had to, regardless of consequence), or why he was trembling against the bathtub when she found him. She didn't have to. They had just exchanged equally as tired smiles and had gotten on with it. The most sentimental they'd got was a couple hours in when neither could manage to fall asleep on the sofa.

" _I know you're dead set against it," Mollie had said. "But we could go back to see Cal if you want, spend the night round his?"_

 _Ethan trembled under her arm. "No. No, he's sleeping."_

" _I don't think anybody could sleep in this situation."_

 _Ethan looked up at her. He couldn't think of Cal right then; it made guilt swell up in his stomach and sadness creep. There was the taste of bitter vomit on his tongue. "Have you ever made yourself sick?"_

 _Mollie shook her head. "No."_

" _Oh, god…"_

" _But that doesn't mean I haven't considered it. I'm sure everyone has and that's without having the same problems as you."_

" _I hope so," he said quietly. Then he backtracked. "I mean, I don't hope so, but-"_

" _I get you," she squeezed him tightly. He felt bloated and like the world was foggy. He couldn't open his eyes wide enough. "We're going to make this better, okay? Tomorrow."_

It's tomorrow now. In the words of a - probably - great philosopher somewhere, Ethan thinks: oh, fuck.

Then Ethan snaps out of his thoughts presently - well, 'snaps' is a strong word, in reality he merely managed to pull himself out of this minor type of coma by pure willpower - and turns to Mollie, turning the leaflet over in his grip. "Yes, I'm still reading it. It's, uh, pretty long."

"Not really a nice read," Mollie says disapprovingly. "Should've brought some books."

"It's informative."

"You'll just worry yourself. Worrying isn't good. It ages you."

"Worrying is a necessary part of life, Mollie Sanderson," Ethan says, but folds the leaflet up anyway and tucks it into his pocket. The shiny picture of a large, white building - half hospital, half a home, of sorts - disguised as a home is going to be showing up in real life soon.

It's three hours drive from Holby to Greenview, and they'll be approaching night soon. The sun is high in the sky but it'll soon melt into a sunset, pinks and purples and oranges all dissolving into power blue until a black shutter comes down.

He watches as the sunlight leaves lines over her frame. Focused on the road, she blinks occasionally, long eyelashes against her cheeks, sun rays washing over. Her choppy brown hair is tucked behind her ears. Ethan hasn't asked why she did it. That's something they perhaps both have in common. They're tired of asking whys, because sometimes they're too difficult to answer.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Ethan is quiet for the remaining time. Forty minutes in, he pulls out the leaflet again and begins to read as Mollie mumbles along to Ed Sheeran. The sun is beginning to set overhead.

 _Information for patients:_

 _Your doctors will keep a watchful eye on your weight and general health if you're being treated in a hospital setting. Their goal is for you to reach a healthy weight in gradual steps, and additionally to start (or resume) therapy._

 _In the residential clinic, you are being treated generally; no nasogastric tubes or drips or hospital beds. The setting is alike to a mental health ward as that is partly what Greenview is, simply specialist. You have your own room._

 _In any case, once they are satisfied with your overall health and weight, you should be able to be discharged._

Ethan puts a hand on his heart. In the last ten minutes, his body has felt more constricted than ever. Like his ribcage is closing in. Ethan rolls the window down the furthest it goes. Thick air is coming into the car. The sun isn't helping this anxiety.

 _For friends and family:_

 _Visiting hours are restrictive. If your loved one is progressing well, then they are allowed weekend visits where guests can come to the clinic for a couple hours. However the patient cannot leave Greenview Residential Clinic unless it's medically approved that they can have a home visit. But this is when the patient is almost at their goal weight. It can be allowed to happen as they near their discharge as almost an incentive._

 _However, phone calls are allowed, though they are additionally restrictive too. Patients are not allowed to phone or text without supervision for their own safety._

Friends and family - crossing off everyone from the ED (because Ethan cannot bear for them to see him this way, it must remain strictly professional) that includes Mollie as a friend. And family, well, that's only his brother unless his mother comes back from the dead and his missing father returns.

The last time he saw Cal, they were furious at eachother. Then frustrated, then upset. Everything was a mess. Ethan left Cal in a state. It shouldn't be Ethan and Mollie right now, it should be Ethan and Cal with this entire tangle of unnecessary events behind them.

That… stupid blood test. And stupid Ethan, for thinking Cal would do it to hurt him.

And Ethan couldn't have kicked Cal harder in the teeth if he'd have _tried_ ; he had throw his efforts into his disappointed face and run to Cal's ex-girlfriend. God. Brother of the year.

Ethan is struck next by missing him - the same way the sea would miss the salt if it disappeared. Ethan knows this feeling is only going to intensify as days progress and can hardly _breathe_. He takes sharp breaths in and out and in and out because he knows what this will become if he doesn't. The tingling of limbs and the pressing pain on his chest, well, no thank you, Mr Satan.

It's been twenty minutes. They've been in the car for just over three hours. Gravel crunches under the wheels, he can hear it from the open window, and Ethan is sure, so sure, that his heart is going faster than the car was during the dual carriageway (because Mollie is an awful driver, just like Cal, and speeds on occasion).

They pull up. Ethan turns to Mollie. Night is approaching quickly - stars beginning to paint themselves in the black canvas of the sky, the sun long since gone. It's late.

Mollie unbuckles her belt. Wordlessly, they get out of the car. Ethan looks around, vision adjusting to the place around them; an empty street, the night sky ruined by street lamps glowing amber and yellow like an artificial sun ray.

They stand quietly, looking up at the building, washed in streetlamps and the darkness of night. If he squints, he can make out that it's creamy white. Lattice and roses. Attractive yet maybe towering, as it's tall, stretched up seemingly for miles. It's likely to be only a couple floors tall but he feels tiny near it.

"You… didn't have to drive me here. Thank you."

"It's what family is for, isn't it?"

Ethan lets her pull him into a one-armed hug, making the most of her being there.

"It's a shame you weren't keen on stopping off at your flat before we made the journey. Cal would've probably liked to see us sooner." It's not passive-aggressive, but it still stings.

"He's probably still angry," Ethan says, as they pull away. He thrusts his shaking hands into his jean pockets.

"I doubt that."

"Cal is good at holding onto anger," Ethan says. "It's how he deals with things sometimes."

"Still. No anger in the world could stop him caring for you."

"Or you," Ethan looks at her. "Bet he misses you."

Mollie smiles, and again she says, "I doubt that."

"Wow, it's like neither of you two know me at all."

They both jump. Mollie squeals loudly and Ethan takes a staggering step backwards. Their arms unlink.

"Caleb!"

"Mollie," Cal says, grinning, amber lighting up his face. He turns to Ethan. "Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

"I can't believe you drove for three hours-" Mollie is cut off.

"Had shopping to do anyways, needed more broccoli."

"Since when do _you_ shop, especially for _vegatables_?"

"Since now!"

It's a mock argument. Ethan is glad to see it. He's almost smiling. Then Cal's eyes meet Ethan's properly, and, immediately, he's going to break.

 _Why is he here?_

 _He's here for you, idiot, after everything you did._

"No," Cal says, shaking his head. "I had to be here. Wanted to see you both." Cal looks at Mollie, smiling. "We can half a hotel room cost. Hey, they've got a shopping centre near here."

Mollie's hand fastens over Ethan's shoulder. Evidently she doesn't want to leave him out of these fun plans. "We'll all have to go down there at some point. Once you're out."

"I'm not even _in_ yet," Ethan manages, and his voice sounds choked. Goddamnit.

He loves the idea of Cal having company; of Cal and Mollie, halving a hotel cost, making a holiday out of this, spending tons of money and going home together as if they're argument never happened. He really wants that. He'll be the one left behind, though, and that hurts.

Cal evidently senses the hurt. All the hurt, every piece of it. "Come here," Cal says quietly.

It's like the argument never happened. Cal closes up the remaining difference between them. Ethan is pulled into a tight hug. He breathes, shaky, wondering why his eyes sting, and realises he needs to cry. Badly. If the choked-up-ness wasn't a warning sign, it's the burning of his eyes that makes him realize he can't get away without having even a little sob.

Then he sinks into Cal, like he's melting. Squeezing too, getting everything sad, everything bitter, out of them both. Cal does the same and it feels nice, like it always did, like it always should. Their wars are bitter. Ethan is keen to call it a draw. He'd be happy to bite back every retort and restrain arguments for the rest of his life if it meant he'd have Cal by his side forevermore.

Without meaning to, he blurts out: "I'm so sorry, Cal." Usually their apologies are exchanged like they cost money, but that one came freely.

Cal laughs. "Shut up, you didn't even do anything. We're good now. All fixed up. It's like I said - everything will be fine."

Ethan holds him closer, wanting to mumble 'I love you's, but not being brave enough. He lets his tears soak in and hopes the embrace will tell Cal all he needs to know. They both clutch at eachother.

Ethan squeezes Cal even tighter, who does the same in reply. He remembers this from when they were little; they'd just keep squeezing tighter until they were both in peals of giggles, breathless but happy. Those were the days. Messed up and fantastic, taking turns to be either a good memory or a repressed one.

They're still just kids with messy hearts and they'll never stop being that.

Quietly, Cal whispers, "you okay?" Into Ethan's hair.

Ethan manages to pull away, Mollie behind him, Cal ahead. He nods, humming, but he's crying. Thick and fast tears. Because yesterday he wanted to die and today he is reminded of the days when he used to want to live (and he's not quite at the point yet where he wants to live, but at least he's not re-writing a suicide note in his brain anymore). Because he's saying goodbye to his family and because he's made mistakes and because, because, because.

Because he's human and everybody cries sometimes.

Cal does too, because it wouldn't be Cal if he didn't join in on a huge crying-fest. Mollie is laughing softly behind them, hand on Ethan's shoulder, pulling his back into her chest, and Ethan feels comforted. Loved. They're three adults, crying like babies, because they're all human and they're all hurting yet they're all… fine. They are okay, in the grand scheme of everything.

"We ought to go in," Mollie says, and her voice sounds choked too.

"Aw, not you too," Cal says through his tears as he sees hers. Ethan is busy wiping his own, and looks up just in time to watch them move over to eachother in order to embrace. Mollie almost melts into it, the way Ethan did. Cal's head rests on her shoulder, hand in her hair. They pull away and they're pink-cheeked.

"Yeah, you're right, we should probably go in," Cal says. "But first, Mollie… what the hell happened to your hair?"

Ethan laughs. Mollie does too and Cal follows; it's carefree until Ethan sounds more like he's sobbing because he _is_ , and Cal takes him under his arm with gentle hushes to match with the kind gesture and they begin to walk. Mollie squeezes Ethan's hand and then lets go, touch lingering. A silent show of solidarity that Ethan appreciates with every shattered piece of him.

Deep breath. Wipe the tears. Cal is squeezing Ethan's side and Mollie leads, and together, they're a team of three. Ethan catches sight of himself in the reflection of the door and he's a thin figure, shrouded by clothes, with a ghost of a smile and streaming eyes. He swipes his hand under them.

They push open the clinic door.

 **a/n:** _this is probably bad but i can't get it any better agh god damn writing is Hard - but at least it's not brain surgery, like getting this wrong won't kill anyone so it's fine i suppose_


	34. 33: Evening

**casfics:** _Phew! I was iffy on including that but glad you liked it. Well for the leaflet I researched a bit, copying key phrases, but a lot of it was thought up or derived from many different websites. It's half-based on certain places IRL but very imagination based, though such places do exist! So yes, certainly a mix of those two things. Ah yes, you're a worrier too - I relate, and surely, Ethan is king of worrying, so it felt fitting to add in. You're so lovely. Thank you for your review!_

 **InfinityAndOne:** _Ay I'm happy you liked the analogy! Haha I have too much fun writing imagery. Ooh, was gonna cut that out so glad you liked that line! It's certainly a huge step, he could easily refuse but he's going ahead with it and that takes guts. With any luck they shall! Finally he is receiving help. Hope you enjoy, thank you for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Happy you liked the pacing. Hehe aw! That means a lot, descriptions can be tricky as I'm sure you as a writer can relate to but sometimes a few decent ones come out of the struggle on occasion. It certainly is a tough one, for them all, actually, but mostly for Ethan at the moment. Let's hope so because they're all suffered a lot haha! Thank you for your review!_

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 **(Same day) 7th of July 2017**

The sun has long since set but neither of the two are prepared to call it a night. They treat nine 'o'clock like it's the evening by heading to a quiet pub away from the main road with wooden tables outside, umbrellas poked in the middle with their silhouettes cast upon the benches. There's scarce blue-tinted light from pods on the awning of the building but they can see eachother, face expressions smudged like a charcoal drawing, and that's what really matters.

Cal has disappeared inside the poky little building with a tenner clutched between his fingers. Through a large window, she can see him leant against the bar, waist brushing a stool, mid-laugh with the bartender. She hopes they are real laughs as opposed to those fake ones; those that hurt your throat and people's ears. Because he deserves to feel enough joy to produce genuine laughter, she knows that.

Mollie focuses her attention to her nails instead. She'd been in the middle of taking the falsies of when Ethan had knocked. They remain undone. Vanity doesn't come close to family. Even now, she doesn't feel particularly irked by the state of her cuticles, more inclined to sit and cross those same fingers in the hope that everything will work out for her sort-of-brother.

There's no mistaking the relief she feels for the fact that he's in the place right for him. It's lead up to this. Even _before_ everything got particularly bad and nobody could hide it anymore, she always wondered why he spent so much time in bed or with puffy eyes. It's given her a new perspective on this sort of situation.

Mollie looks back to her nails again. They're a bit ruined, slightly ugly - the same could be said for life, she muses idly, like an old philosopher - but we deal with what we've got. She's relieved, to say the least.

Her attention turns back to the large window, but she no longer sees Cal. Her forehead creases. The bartender is now drying glasses and seemingly humming.

"Tiny little B&B is nearby, if we take a left turning and fifteen minutes down the dual carriageway."

Mollie flinches. Blue light comes from behind Cal's frame, hands clasped around bodies of glass cups of lemonade with chunks of ice floating in them. It's nothing less than a docile sight - her previous partner, still beloved, disappearing off to get drinks for her so she doesn't overheat or go thirsty. An act of adoring care. Yet she was so lost in thought that jumping was inevitable.

"Don't creep up on me."

"I didn't."

The bench creaks as Cal sits. They're alone, out here, with distorted conversation leaking out of the pub doors and open windows, the occasional outbreak of laughter getting lost in the breeze that their red straws in the glasses twirl in.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Mollie pulls the sides of her mouth up into a smile. It's proof that she is fine, genuinely. He caught her lost in thought.

"Your jacket is cute," she points out instead. She couldn't do much worse than bring up Cal's brother right now, as that is on her mind, and she can't bear to see those worry lines. Maybe once concern looked sweet on Cal, or hot, because there's something endearing about blokes worrying for their beloved youngers, but now her chest aches each time she sees him pause and bite his lip until it bleeds.

"You bought it for me."

"I know," she says, "that's why it's cute. I have great taste."

"Guess I can't disagree as I'm wearing something you picked. Would you believe me if I said this is the first time I've ever worn it?"

" _No_. Admit it, I'm the female Gok Wan." Cal loses and smiles, finally, and she claims her victory.

The tone changes as a breeze ruffles a nearby bush. Mollie remembers where they are and switches to general conversation. "Nice place, isn't it?"

"It's decent," Cal agrees. "Expensive area. Holby is sort of in the middle so it's affordable for even the in-debt doctor. Would move here, but it's a _long_ drive to work every day and additionally costs a bomb for a cup of lemonade."

"True. Oh, right," Mollie takes it as a hint and begins ruffling in her handbag. Receipts crinkle and random coins roll along the bottom. It's been too long since she's sorted it out but she supposes she's had other thoughts on her mind.

"Babe, I wasn't hinting, only commenting. I can spare five quid."

Suddenly shy, she zips the handbag shut again. "Thanks," she says, grasping the glass in her hand. She drinks using the straw and then adds, "You called me babe."

"Force of habit."

"I suppose so."

"I'll try not to in future."

"No," she says, surprising herself. She twirls the straw. "I like it."

The smile on Cal's face after she's said it is something she'd paint if she had any artistic ability at all. Cerulean blue for his eyes and blond-turned-brown for his hair, as soft as beach sand, with a sleepy smile with a wet upper lip from lemonade. A shadow washed around his jaw.

"So what were you saying about a B&B?" She runs her finger along the rim of her cup. Hopefully the casual tone of her voice doesn't make that question seem suggestive. Only time anyone ever asks about a B&B in interest is usually if they're looking to sleep with the person they're asking. Classic flirting.

Fortunately, Cal is equally as absorbed in his thoughts and doesn't pick up on the potential hint at all. "It's nearby. Short way down the road. It isn't cheap but I think it's better than me taking another taxi and you driving your mum's car for hours back home."

"How was the taxi, by the way? Must've been hell."

"Awful. Had no breaks the entire time. I felt like my bladder was going to explode."

"Should've taken your car!"

"I know," he agrees. "I just didn't trust myself to drive. Might've gotten lost. Luckily you didn't, or I'd have been left waiting in the heat. That taxi driver wasn't interested in staying long at all."

"We did get lost, actually. Several times. Ethan didn't notice."

Cal doesn't seem surprised. "Yeah, he doesn't really notice much like that. Very in his head."

A beat of sadness seems to ripple through them. Mollie does her best to ignore it. Cal drinks his lemonade so fast a drip runs down his chin, and he looks embarrassed that he just downed it like a shot.

Mollie raises the glass to her lips to follow his example more gracefully and downs the remaining half of it. It's the sort of taste your body craves on a comfortably warm night. She half considers asking for another one before Cal stands, dusting his jeans off.

"Up for trying to find that B&B?"

She could go for a nap right now. "Absolutely."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

The price of one night at that place seems to be skyrocketed to oblivion. Evidently the owners are having the last laugh, as there's nowhere else to go within a forty mile radius as they claim. That's until they drive for a couple minutes and come across a decent Inn to stay in for the night.

Unfortunately, there is but one catch.

"We've got one last room with a single king bed."

"Oh," Mollie says, her eyes trying to meet Cal's.

He seems distracted watching the television in the corner. It takes a moment to snap him into action to ask his opinion on this decision, and he barely seems with it anyway. Tiredness has finally caught up with him. Purple eyes don't tell lies.

They could easily head back to that overly pricey B&B with the smug owners, to queue alongside the huffing woman with the necktie and a crying child with two despairing parents with a teenager whose shoulders seem perpetually drooped, but Mollie is unwilling to admit defeat. This place is gleaming and modern - they could have a restful sleep in cotton and have a fried breakfast in the morning alongside a cup of lemonade.

"Sure, we'll go for that," she says, and takes out her credit card. "Anything for an easy life."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

The room itself is fantastic. She's happily closing the curtains, switching a light on, and checking out the teeny shampoos when she notices Cal.

He stands, lost, in the middle of it. His hands rub his shoulders and he looks forlorn. Mollie is about to show him the tiny body wash container in hopes to amuse him when she realises what he's thinking about.

It's very reminiscent of… well, of a place she's been before. A sad little hotel that was stained with cigarette smoke with graffiti walls outsde.

"Okay?"

"Suppose so," Cal says, and drops down onto the bed. "I'm just thinking of the other hotel. Not the B&B, just the one… the one with Ethan."

Mollie recalls how cheap that place was. The thick coating of dust on seemingly every surface, white-turned-grey bed sheets, paper thin curtains that may as well have been used to mop up water from that drippy sink as opposed to block out light. It'd likely do a shabby job doing either.

"It's going to be better now, you know."

"I believe that," Cal says. "But it doesn't mean that it wasn't once bad before. Doesn't mean the bad memories disappear."

Mollie's hand curls around his bicep, stopping him before he gets any sadder. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

Cal seems to be willing to oblige. Mollie peels the covers back, satisfied at how gleaming the sheets are and disappointed that she won't be cold enough to find use for them. God, what a problem to have; being unable to use expensive hotel bed sheets. Cry a river. Mollie is willing to have these 'problems' rather than the recent ones which really require thick skin.

Mollie is unbuckling her shoes contendely as she notices Cal taking pillows. They fall from his grasp onto the ground with a soft thump. He takes two, and then begins pulling off his jacket.

"What are you doing?"

Equally as questioning, he says, "Sleeping?"

"You can sleep in the bed," she says, motioning to it, like he hadn't noticed it. "I don't mind."

"I thought I'd let you have it. I'll be a... chivalrous gentleman."

"Don't start opening doors for me, I won't be able to recognise you," she says, raising an eyebrow. She begins wiping her lipstick off because there's no way she's sleeping with that on these expensive sheets.

He smiles. "Nah, I just mean that you've been driving all day. Your back deserves a break."

She wonders if he'll be this supportive when she finally - and she will, she has to - tells him the news of her pregnancy. Perhaps he'll be all _let me carry that, babe_ , and s _it down, get your weight off of your feet_. He'll hold her arm and pick out baby clothes and put his hand on her stomach, thrilled at even the slightest movement.

Maybe he'll join in on imagining scenarios for when it's born - wondering if it'll be a boy or girl, and realising that doesn't matter at all, because they would honestly just want a healthy baby regardless of its sex. She wonders if he'll teach the baby to play football when it is old enough, or waltz around the kitchen practising ballroom, or paint pictures with rainbows colours, or all three. She'll tut at the mess, because the baby will likely inherit Cal's disorganization, but be happy to call those two amazing humans her own.

She snaps out of it. It is easy to get lost in daydream when running on seemingly negative hours of sleep. "Share with me," she says, and slides her light jacket off of her shoulders. "You have the left half, I have the right half."

"Are… are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't sure."

"Mollie," he says. "We broke up, didn't we? We're not together anymore. We're not who we were."

She perches on the edge of the bed and focuses on the television ahead of them. "Yeah. I don't know what we are." It's something she's tried not to focus on. Right now, she's done her best to pretend they're just two old friends.

"Mollie…"

"I just know that there's two tired people who need a rest right now, in a good bed, and have to work some stuff out. And they will tomorrow. These two people will sort it all. 'Cause they've got over hell together, and they'll do it over and over again because they're strong." She pauses, lobs a cushion at his head, and says, "so get into bed with me, because your eye bags look painful. They're making _me_ tired."

Cal takes the cushions and puts them in their rightful position. They kick the duvet aside, wearing as little as they can without it seeming intimate, and listen to the odd car passing by. The window is open only a crack, and there's evidence of the world passing and going smoothly outside of it, and that brings hope.

"Don't suppose we're those two people you're mentioning?"

Mollie rolls her eyes, exhaustion meaning her laughs come easy at the deliberate idiocy, and they settle down for bed. All stress gone.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

At around one, she begins to hear Cal's soft breathing. It reduces some stiffness derived from being tense. She'd been worried he was going to be upset, but he'd been taking everything on the chin. She's proud. The worry lines disappear when he's asleep. It definitely sounds like he's asleep, so she's safe to do this.

She draws circles over his back as they lay there. First, she mouths it. Then she whispers it. Lastly, in the dead of the early morning, as the clock ticks, she says to Cal: "I'm having a baby."

After, she draws a heart on his back. Restraining from cuddling around his waist, like she always used love, or pressing him with ice-cold feet, which she used to do in order to wind him up, so he'd do that mock annoyed face she dies for every time, she turns to her right side. It takes moments and she's content, with nothing but babies and ultrasounds and the hope that perhaps one day she'll see her sort-of-brother happier and the relief of being with the boyfriend she left, on her mind.

Mollie sleeps finally, sheets cuddled to her stomach, blissfully unaware that Cal hasn't been sleeping.


	35. 34: Storm Before The Calm

**Bonnie Sveen Fan:** _You'll find out soon - hope you enjoy, thank you for your review._

 **20BlueRoses:** _Ah glad it wasn't predictable or ugh-worthy, that wouldn't have been good haha. The future shall tell. Aw - thank you for that, and here's a second thank you for your review too and continued support._

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 **(His first day) 8th of July 2017**

Morning comes as it relentlessly does. It's unfortunate, but it's something to rely on, at least. A regular in a world full of circumstances changing too often. Ethan is relieved to have the familiarity of something that will never go, as it is hardly scientifically possible for it to go away.

In a new bed, room and place, Ethan sits with the woven bed sheet (made of white material and blue… string?) kicked off. Sweat layers his skin; it's sticky like sun lotion. He breathes like he's burning and jostles his leg. A glaring part of his mind worries so much that it upsets his stomach, and he knows that this is going to wholly affect his chances of even potentially eating today.

In a poor attempt at distraction, he focuses his eyes through the gap between the curtains. His arms cradle the pillow he was given. It's an unremarkable view from where he's sitting. Even with glasses propped on the edge of his nose, it's difficult to see through blurs of green dotted with presumed flowers. Evidently the place is pleasant despite an uncomfortable blanket; even more evidently, he's scared of being here.

The door handle rattles.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Sleep well?"

Yes. Looking past the nightmares, cold sweats, tightened chest and eventual insomnia, he did. The late hours of the night hadn't made him feel so much on top of the world, more under it, but she doesn't need to know that.

"Yes, thank you," he says to the lady he is forced to stalk.

Agnes - the said lady who seems to rule the roost around here - doesn't nod or pretend with him. "Lying," she says with a tut, "we'll shake that out of you." She turns and gives him a smile so he knows she's joking. As she faces ahead again, her face continues to be stern with lowered eyebrows.

To everyone else they pass, her smiles don't make appearances. A distinct headteacher vibe surrounds her, from her impressive posture and constantly stiff expression. Fittingly, it's as though everyone else is her students. Agnes seems about the age where people listen to her without question; her skin is dark and her lips are painted red, her hair twisted into a tight blob, and the wearing of age doesn't apply to her seemingly. She must be over forty yet she carries herself as though age hasn't done a thing. Regardless of respect he is accumulating about her, Ethan prefers it when she smiles; maybe it's a prize for doing something right. It makes him more at ease.

Agnes leads him down a hallway. It's plain and shiny. There's one cupboard, bolted up, and slats in the wood show blankets. Another room is locked with a keycode pressed into the wall. The door reads 'Pharmacy'. They pass it, footsteps echoing down the hall. Agnes unlocks a door and they walk though it. There's no noise. Ethan can hear his own little breaths.

"I was _wondering_ ," he says, jogging a little to keep up. He swallows his fear and manages to ask: "Would I be able to call my brother?"

Agnes looks at him and he feels like he's been told off. Then she changes tact. "Let's get some appointments out of the way first."

"Oh."

"It'll feel full-on at first," she says in response to a question he didn't ask. "But you'll get used to it."

"But after? Maybe after?" He's aware it sounds ridiculous, like he's a toddler clamouring for a turn to wash the dishes (something kids always find enjoyable, for some reason). Yet he's unwilling to give up until he can tell himself that he's had a good go of it.

"We'll see."

Ethan hangs back, unhappy with the condescending approach. He knows she's just trying to avoid trampling on his feelings but he doesn't want to lose this one, so he continues. "It's not that I'm being childish," he says. "It's a long journey home, and I was worried he hadn't made it back."

"If your brother is capable of getting here, it's likely he'll be able to get back."

"He might not. Mollie might've taken over and they might have crashed."

"I wouldn't worry."

"But I do worry," he says. "I worry a lot."

"Ethan," she says - the first time she'd ever said it. He hates the way his name sounds in other people's mouths, but she manages to say it so it's both kind and stern and he's so confused about how she did it. "You need to worry about yourself now. Not him. Not her, either."

"I can worry about three people simultaneously."

Agnes looks, and he's worried she'll get angry, but she seems amused. "Has anyone ever told you that you're remarkably stubborn?"

Immediately, guilt sinks his stomach. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be a nuisance."

"It's an admirable quality in circumstances, but, you've got to know how to stop. Let someone else take control of this."

"I'll let you."

"Good," she says, and pulls open a door with glass cutouts and a white frame.

It's a cafeteria; alike to one at his old primary school. There's a line where two people are serving food, and another door behind there. Ethan watches a stout blonde woman push through it, and there's a whole gleaming kitchen in there. The remaining man is black-haired and slim, nodding his head subtly to imaginary music as he focuses on his task.

People sit at tables, some accompanied, some not. Very few seem at peace. Some do and Ethan wonders how they have the energy to pretend _and_ to eat at the same time.

One woman is jogging her knee frantically, almost moving the table. A young man is calmly eating peas from first glance, but as Ethan looks back, he notices the man's arms are bumpy with scars and his face is stained with tears. There's two women sitting closely together; one reassuring the other, hands interlocked. That seems to be a cause for concern as two staff come along and move them. Plenty of staff walk about, like exam invigilators, trying to spot out foul play. They don't seem human until one elbows another in the ribs and they start to laugh, carefree. The other staff members stare.

"Breakfast. Then we'll check your vitals and weight."

"Brilliant," he manages, and releases that sarcasm might be all he can use to get through this.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Twenty bites. They're quick. Quicker it's done, less time there is to worry. A seamless theory; hard to put into practise. These first ten bites are on the left side of the mouth, and they're getting progressively slower as time passes. Then ten on the right. Sometimes, five more, ruining the neat twenty. Then swallow. Ball hands up, breathe through the nausea. Try again. Hold the spoon with trembling hands.

"Alright?"

"Loving it."

"Yes," she says, her cereal already finished. "I know you're not."

He wants to let his tears spill into the bowl but he's so focused on this that he can't give into the relief of crying. Three spoonfuls and a failed one that didn't make it halfway to his mouth - that's seventy five bites of soggy cornflakes - is all he can take.

Only two more meals to go.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Forty-eight kilograms is what it takes for a group of people's faces to fall.

Ethan wasn't meant to know. It was meant to be a blind-weight check, but he is good at knowing what he shouldn't. The lady doing it is bad at hiding what she's writing about him, and the other ones are too focused on looking concerned. Apparently, his vitals are fine, but he's underweight for his age and height, and scarily, the goal is to gain half a kilogram a week.

"A healthy weight for you would be fifty-three kilograms to seventy-two," she says, scripted, as if she's reading off an information guide.

Ethan is hardly listening; she won't tell anything he doesn't already know anyway. Besides that, he's pre-occupied. They've taken away any smart clothing he used to have, replacing it with plain t-shirts and jeans - some of his old shirts have metal buttons, and those can be used self destructively so it's goodbye to them. Ties are forbidden with a passion. He barely recognises himself with un-gelled hair, now fluffy and squashed on one side, dressed as though he's having a perpetual off day by his standards.

If he pulls his t-shirt against him, the mirror reveals bumps of his ribcage. Rarely does he see collarbones, but they're deep now. He doesn't need to hunch his shoulders to notice them. The man in the mirror doesn't look comfortable in his own skin; like he's going to pull it off and become a skeleton. He wouldn't look much different.

Sleeves aren't allowed either. So any lack of muscle can't be hidden. A thumb and a forefinger can loop around his waist, with space to spare, and his elbows seem sharp. Ethan wonders how he feels to hug. Likely uncomfortable. He always thought Cal was slim yet he feels like hugging cushions, whereas when Ethan wraps his scarred arms around himself, he's unconvinced he'll feel the same.

"Do you see the problem?" The same lady asks condescendingly. She keeps doing double takes of his appearance even though she must've seen people similar before. Maybe she'll never get used to it. Maybe he won't either.

"No," he says to the mirror. "I just see me."

Which, he thinks miserably, _is_ actually the problem. He can't quite take in what he's seeing.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

They won't let him hide his arms. The bandages that used to tie around them have long since gone since they healed over, after _that_ bathroom incident that caused everything to unravel and become known even more, but he wishes he didn't have the displeasure of looking at them.

"When did you start this?"

Ethan shrinks back into his chair, refusing to meet the psychiatrists eye. "I don't know. A month ago… maybe more. I don't know."

"It needs to stop, don't you agree?"

"It helps," he says. "I don't see the harm in it if it stops me from doing something more stupid."

The psychiatrist writes in his notebook. Rapidly, actually. Ethan isn't sure how everyone keeps finding different ways of re-wording that he's a lost cause. As this day progresses, he realises how ruined he is, and it hurts.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Three hundred and thirty-damn-nine hours seem to have passed. They haven't. It's a twenty-four hour day and he's barely surpassed twelve of them.

Every hour he seems to be somewhere different. It's full-on. His legs ache and his head spins perpetually. Blinking is an obvious necessity yet he's doing more than he should, just to clear his vision.

He spits a mouthful of bread onto the plate. It's disgusting, and people nearby look like they're cringing (though they definitely seem used to this sort of action, sort of resigned), but he couldn't keep it in his mouth anymore. It's as though swallowing it will lead to him throwing it right back up. Vomit always seems to be close.

"I can't eat it," he says weakly.

"Alright. That's fine. We'll get you a meal replacement drink." Agnes rises and barely keeps her eyes off him as she walks away. He jogs his legs intensely under the table until she comes back and tells him off for it. It's another bad habit he's got to break, apparently.

The drink he's given is chunky and thick. It tastes like he imagined slimfast would, even though it's having the opposite effect. _Fatfast_. Has a better ring to it. Ethan berates himself for these thoughts, something he probably should do more often.

Agnes points to numerous tables. "We don't have to sit alone," she says, as he tries and fails to disguise his disgust by spitting it back in. "Maybe it'd help to have company."

"Not really."

She raises an eyebrow. "Spitting it back in won't help. One mouthful, don't think about it, then swallow. Keep going. We'll be here all day if that's how long it takes."

It's a mix of supportive and strict. He's noticed her voice raises in pitch on occasion when it didn't before. His mum's used to do that, whenever she was talking about how their dad didn't ever lend a hand with the cleaning, or how Cal was failing at school, or on the phone about Ethan when she didn't know he was listening, her voice would go higher as she spoke about whatever he'd accidentally done wrong.

Frustration. It's natural, human, and raw frustration.

Maybe he's testing her patience; and it's only his first day.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

They're waiting outside a room to speak to a dietician, and Ethan's eyes are focused on a pinboard. Posters are stuck on with blue-tac, but he can see _something_ , badly hidden, likely accidentally put there. Nobody would put something like that in a place where self-destructive people are, it'd be tempting fate. Yet they have and he can't resist it.

He brushes the posters with his hand and unpicks the pin. Agnes notices he's doing something, uneducated as to what, and is frozen in suspicion, but he speaks first. Liars usually speak first to avoid the questions they don't want to answer.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

"Yes," she says - because it's been a certain amount of time after a meal, and he can be trusted. "I'll wait outside. Don't lock it." Or not.

It feels good, being alone. The bathroom is entirely empty. He closes the door without sliding the bolt and takes it in. A singular moment of no voices, no plans and no worry.

Then it ends. That was the peace before the thunderclap.

Ethan sits on the floor and uncurls his hand. The pin gleams under artificial light. He doesn't even think about it. Stings of pain is all he focuses on. He numbs everything else with this. It's a solution to everything he can think of. Temporary or not, it makes him feel… well, it makes him _feel_. He does it over and over into the palm of his hand until she's knocking at the door, hurrying him.

Beads of blood are more noticeable than he'd hoped. It was obvious there was going to be some trace, but he was too caught up in it to think through the consequences. His hand was a bad place to do it. Anywhere else could have sufficed. Yet desperation causes recklessness.

It mixes with water as he washes it away. Stings is the punishment he gets for it, but he bites back a hiss of pain and lets it happen. He misses it when it's gone.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Three meals," says the man with the mustache. "Three snacks."

If Ethan was made of porcelain, this is the earthquake that would shatter him. Irreplaceable shards from an already cracked product.

"So...both? I can't just have the three snacks?"

"No. It isn't either-or."

"Six times for eating? Isn't that excessive?"

"You're on a weight gaining program. Most of the patients here are."

The man with a mustache is a dietician. Ethan notices the roundness of his stomach and wonders if that's how he'll look when he leaves this place.

"They're not _just_ patients, they're _people_. They must _hate_ being forced." Every other word is exaggerated. The man seems unphased.

"For many of them here, it's life or death. They don't want to leave their lives behind; their families, their prospects, their previous joy. Think of this like a stepping stone to get out of the pond and back on land, where you once loved to be."

"It's not the destination I have a problem with, it's the journey."

"You need to try," mustache man says. "The fact you're here is a step in the right direction. You can't throw in the towel yet. And we won't let you." The end of the sentence sounds ominous and he doesn't want to know what the man means by that.

"I am trying."

"I know," mustache man says. "We'll work up gradually to this. If it gets too much, we can consider a nasogas-"

"I am _trying_ ," he insists, louder this time. "So that isn't necessary."

"Actions are better than words. Prove it."

Ethan tends to. Eventually. Though now feeling resigned, he rubs his forehead with his hand. No matter how hard, he can't remove the permanent creases of worry. Perpetually tense, loosening up isn't something he can do.

"Have you spoken to any of the other patients here? Perhaps it would do you good to speak to some." He leans back into the chair. "We discourage friendships, but it's unhealthy to stay alone."

"Haven't had the chance," he says, a weak attempt at a smile. Mustache man looks at the smile, his eyes, then his forehead. A crease settles in his brow - Ethan is confused too as to why this man is bewildered.

He doesn't notice until it's too late. It's when mustache man moves closer, name badge catching light through the window - he's Dr Allen, it turns out - and squints that he knows he's messed up.

"You've wiped blood on your forehead. But there's no cut."

Ethan feels his heart rate increase. "Oh."

Dr Allen sits back into his chair. It squeaks, like it's in pain. "Can I see your hand, please?"

Ethan squeezes them together into tight fists. "No."

"Well, I don't need to see it to know you've self-harmed. How did you do it? Nothing you have should be able to be used as a tool."

He wants to shout. Everything is being taken or found out about. The minute he finds a coping mechanism, it's dragged away. One day here and he's being separated from every ounce of control. This isn't something he wants to talk about. It makes him feel like he's wearing his skin inside out. Vulnerable to the world. Ethan stares resolutely ahead into a painted mural.

"I'm no expert," Dr Allen says when he gets no response. "But a rubber band to the wrist might help, yes? To fight those urges."

"It's not the same."

"Do you have what you used to do it on you?" Ethan doesn't reply, and that's clearly response enough. "Put it on the desk, please."

Ethan bites his lip. _Hard_. There's no winning this. Ethan takes the pin out from hiding in his trainer laces. It's a tiny, pathetic little tool, and he feels stupid that he has to be confiscated from having it.

"The nurse will clean your hands."

"Can I go now?"

"To the nurse, yes. I'll accompany you."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

One last meal is at the end of this impossible day. He looks at the mashed potatoes, the congealed sausages, and covers his hand over his mouth to hide an accidental gag.

"Ethan," Agnes says. "You need to try."

"I am trying," he says, weaker now more than ever, after using his energy up on with Dr Allen and a misunderstanding nurse who tutted at the state of his palms. She'd roughly bandaged them up and told him to stay away from pins. Then she told him about her nephew, who used to self-harm. Ethan had hoped for a positive story that he would likely not believe anyway, but she went on to tell him that her nephew killed himself. _But he was a nice boy_ , she'd said. Being a nice boy isn't always enough to save you, Ethan had thought.

Agnes pulls herself up - she doesn't need to be told that he can't do this, it's clear as water that he's incapable of being _normal_ \- to get another nutritional shake. It'll be far more calorific than the fact because everyone knows that dinner calories make up the majority. Ethan wants to lay his head on the table and sleep.

When she returns, he doesn't even touch the bottle. He stares at it and wonders if crying would be a good way of getting out of it. Perhaps if he becomes hysterical enough, he'll be sent to his room to calm down and that'll be the end of it.

"You've done remarkably well today."

Ethan looks up, convinced he hasn't heard right. Maybe there's something wrong with his ears alongside everything else.

"I mean it. It's an emotionally draining process, and you've done your best."

Ethan refuses to believe it. He doesn't want to let any goodness sink in.

He hasn't done his best. Doing his best is eating. Doing his best is being willing to gain weight. Doing his best isn't tearing into people trying to help. Doing his best isn't hurting himself. Doing his best isn't this. He hasn't done his best. He's far from his best.

"I know I was against it, but usually phone calls are allowed an hour after the last meal. Just before sleeping. If you'd like, you could phone your brother? I'm sure he'll be happy to hear from you."

He can't call Cal. Not now. Ethan is a failure. Failures don't deserve to sit on the phone with his brother and pretend like he's actually going to be okay one day. As if he'll actually see Cal again! He'll be locked here for the rest of his life. He might as well get used to life without Cal.

This illness is going to destroy him, and when it's taken everything, it'll kill him. Ethan wants to be angry, but it's hard to be angry at your brain when you're halfway in-between _kill yourself_ and _get better_. There's too many thoughts. Not enough room for anger too.

"No," he mumbles. "No, thank you, it's fine."

"Anybody else? A friend, a different family member?"

Ethan shakes his head, and she doesn't press him on it anymore.

And he hates himself for this. He really does. But as soon as he's alone, he's going to scratch down his arms until there's blood. It's not as though they can take his nails away.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

At the end of it, all he can remember is snapshots of the hours he's endured. Bandages are wound around his hand (pins can do more damage than anticipated) in reminder. Apathy is filling him, besides those ghastly drinks, and it's a mix that could reduce him to sickness.

Night falls, and he doesn't feel grateful to get into bed, but if he was functioning, he would be. It's a place he might enjoy if he could feel anything but… this.

Ethan remembers the food and the drinks and the appointment and the people and everything miscellaneous that's stuck in his mind. He flickers over these different negative thoughts. Like a mental russian roulette. It's dangerous, and stupid, but he does it often. The thought he stops on ends up being him, legs numb on the bathroom floor, Agnes hammering at the door, with tiny drops of blood sliding down his palms. That's what he pictures. That's what is stuck.

The sun lotion feeling comes back. It's uncomfortable, sweat sticking his clothes to his back. Ethan wants to scratch down his arms until he feels better.

 _But you're not going to feel better, are you?_

Ethan cradles a pillow, his head resting on the mattress. If he pretends, this pillow might be Cal. The brother who he's going to disappoint. The one he may as well just leave, because he's better off without Ethan anyway. Ethan is everything bad in the world; a knot in jewellery, a crack in the road, a hole in an inflatable ball, a peeling shoe sole, a crumb stuck under a keyboard key. He's an inconvenience and a failure and a problem needing to be solved. But one that may never be solved. A human car crash with eventual casualties.

And finally, tears are hot down his face. They come without letting up, and all he feels is relief. Falling apart is something familiar. As familiar as mornings.

When the morning does come, his eyes feel swollen and his chest feels sad. He realises that there's no way in hell he can do this.


	36. 35: Bombshell

**20BlueRoses:** _Thank you so much. I'm glad to hear that. Hopefully, it will - he has put himself under pressure to feel 'okay' immediately, so failure within the first few hours was never going to go smoothly with him. Thank you for your review and support, is appreciated. Writing is fun but even better when you know someone wants to hear what you have to say!_

 _ **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**_

 **(the same day, just beginning for them - 7th of July 2017)**

It is long since the rise of the sun when they get out of the sheets together. Breakfast is spent in a small diner with tiled walls. A jaded stereotype of a waitress serves them there, who uses more nicknames than even Mollie tends to, wearing a tight dress and an apron. They have their eggs sunny side up with foamy milkshakes to wash them down with.

Greenview has only one walking park - something that brings its sparkling reputation down, unfortunately. It's filled with vibrant leaves and tiny flowers in blades of grass. A chain-linked playpark is barely occupied; a couple mothers, engrossed in conversation, push toddlers on swings, legs dangling, loud and high-pitched babbling as if they're joining in with the conversation.

Mollie watches Cal's eyes as they pass. He takes an interest for a few moments, then drops his eyes.

"Are you a children person?"

"I'm an everything person. Dog person. Cat person." He offers her a smile and she takes it gladly.

Afternoon is when they manage a late lunch, stomachs still full with the milkiness of their tall glasses of milkshake. They sit outside, near a pond, with an empty baguette that they tear the inside out of with their fingers. It's a less civilised meal than previously but the ducks enjoy it.

"I used to be scared of ducks," Mollie says, as she offers a particularly generous amount of fluffy bread to a duckling. "I mean, I think so, anyway. That's what my mum says."

"What's wrong with _ducks_?"

"Nothing. Except when they chase you."

"Ah." Cal seemingly senses a story. "Go on, then. Tell me."

" _Well_ ," she begins. "As the story goes, I was about seven, maybe… nine? Probably nine. I was having a picnic with a group of friends during the weekend. All of our parents were nearby, but far away enough to give us the illusion of being alone. I remember we were running in and out of this shallow pond, disturbing the ducks."

"Bit of a dick move."

"I was seven!"

"Thought you said nine?"

She whacks him lightly with the baguette. "Anyway. And _then,_ they decided they had enough. The ducks chose me as their victim and had no mercy in making me get what I deserved. I got pecked once. It was the lightest thing ever in hindsight. Back then I was terrified. Took me about half an hour to calm down."

"How'd you break the phobia?"

Mollie pulls more stuffing from inside her half of the baguette. "Who said I'm not still scared?"

"Because you're sat next to a pond right now!"

"Doesn't mean I'm not wary," she says, smiling. "No, I believe the fear was broken by exposure therapy - meaning we went down to the park every now and again, and my parents just so happened to invite the ducks over whilst shielding me. Came to realise there wasn't anything to be frightened of."

"Props to seven - or nine - year old you. Phobias are hard to break."

"Best way to face your fears is head-on, I suppose." She looks right at Cal, knowing he won't get the reference - that she needs to face her fears, and just tell him this huge secret inside of her stomach that involves him so amazingly.

But he looks at her like he knows something _she_ doesn't.

 _Oh._

Oh, right.

She was certain he was asleep last night. He was, wasn't he? Calm breathing is usually a sign. Or perhaps he was relaxed for once, by her side. Regret begins to grow inside of her. It could be that she's showing signs of pregnancy but they shouldn't be so glaring at such an early stage. Mollie is worried. He could know, and she's unsure if she's relieved or terrified.

She forces herself to ask something that could reveal all. "So did you sleep well last night?"

And that look comes back again. The one like he's hiding a secret, when she's the one who is. Guilt, of sorts, in his fleeting eye contact.

"I actually didn't sleep at all."

With just that sentence coming from him, Mollie's blood runs cold.

Because he knows.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

They don't talk. Cal drives her mum's car back, and she puts her feet on the dashboard. It's an illusion of calm but inside, she's the opposite.

"How'd you, uh, think Ethan's getting on?" Anxiety creeps into her voice and she's alarmed at this stranger inhabiting her.

Evidently he notices. He always notices. "You stammered," Cal's hands are firmly on the steering wheel. Eyes steely. "You never stammer. You're never nervous."

"Jesus, Cal, I'm still human."

He's not finished. "And using Ethan as a way to take the attention away from something else, well, that's low."

Her blood re-freezes at the accusation. Sharply, she pulls her feet off of the dashboard. Any illusion of calm or relaxation is useless now. Like how it's pointless trying to hide from the rain when your umbrella is broken and you're in miles of open space.

"What I think and what I hope are two different things," Cal starts, and he's not angry this time. He's loud, of course, but she knows Cal well enough to understand that fear causes his internal volume controls to raise to the max. "I think that he'll be terrified. I hope that he'll be doing something constructive after finishing lunch right now. I'm not stupid. I know it's hard."

"Cal…"

"How do _you_ think he's getting on?"

"Same as you," she says uselessly. "I hope it's fine. I know it probably isn't. But we hope, and with any luck, it'll work out sooner rather than later.."

"I hope so." He sounds placated now. Yet Mollie wishes she'd never brought it up.

"Cal, listen…"

"I know I don't say it often, but I love him, you know? This, it's one of the biggest decisions I've ever made. I didn't think he'd even go through with it. But I couldn't section my brother. Or watch. He's stubborn. Needed to find the will to do it himself. This place, it's really going to do something."

Mollie recognises that this is a rant in progress, and gives him the space to get it out. "Do you think he's open to getting help?"

"I think he won't refuse. I know he'll try. But I think he'll be frustrated at how slow it all is, and how hard it is. He doesn't know what he wants."

"Well, there's only two choices, isn't there? Get better, or…" she doesn't say the last part. Cal obviously knows what it was because he grips the steering wheel harder still. Summer rain is beginning to patter down on the windshield.

"He doesn't see it that way. It's not a two choice thing. It's not one or the other. It's a whole tree of choices. I don't know, I know him, but I don't know how it'll go."

"I know him. And I know it'll be fine."

"Really?" He meets her eye, twisting his neck. "Nobody knows that."

"Well, I do."

"I'm his big brother, I know him better than anyone, and I know it won't be fine yet."

"I know, Cal, but he _will_ be. Everything is in the right place. He couldn't be in better hands. Listen, if hope could cure this, I'd give him all of mine. I'd give him a leg and an arm to make this better."

"I think _I_ would, Mols."

"We both would."

"Yeah, alright, well we both know that I love him mo-"

Mollie looks at him with such ferocity he sees it in his peripheral vision. They silence. The radio plays some unknown song with a frustratingly slow backing track. Rain continues to fall. The car wheels roll underneath them. Their hearts continue to beat.

And they burst into loud, exhausted, juvenile, ridiculous, actually _real_ laughter.

Idiots. Actual idiots. Here they are, with proper problems, like proper adults, with proper jobs and proper everything. and they're arguing over something so pointless that it's laughable. Like kids arguing over crayons when their parents are planning a divorce next door. This is bliss, but it's also stupid.

"Oh my God, are you _kidding_ ," Cal's shoulders shake, his hands loose on the steering wheel. It's too much. Her stomach aches in a good way.

It's not even _funny_. It's ridiculous and stupid and, in spite of everything, it's useless. There is no payoff to this argument. It's fueled by Cal's sleeplessness and Mollie's high temper, and the craziness that comes alongside leaving hotel rooms and excessive social interaction and too much coffee that they snuck in, plus the long car journey, which is likely what was their undoing. They're going mad. Their stomachs hurt in a fantastic way.

"Did we _seriously_ just argue about who loves my brother more?"

Mollie is relieved to have reason to laugh. "To a degree, we did," she says in a splutter. She meets his grinning but pained eyes, and knows they need to talk. So she says that, because she knows she must. And then they pull over the car.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

The rain adds a strangely dramatic effect to this already difficult conversation. They sit on the bonnet of their car on a desolate part of a long road, shoulders rubbing together when they breath. She can feel his occasional shivers. It's warm out, but they both have goosebumps.

She doesn't meet his eyes. Or look at the side of his face. She knows he'll be chewing at his lip.

"When you're scared of something," she says, without fully knowing where she's headed with this, but intending to finish it. "You face it."

"I don't disagree."

"Especially if it's something really important. And this _is._ So." She swallows. "I need to tell you something. You probably already know what it is."

"Then why does it scare you? Truth has already been spilt. You can't be scared if it's already happened."

Denial. "I don't know. It doesn't feel real. Like a nightmare."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

Mollie turns her head, and he's looking at her. Shadowy face, from the bright sun, from the shade, a mix of both. Just like at the pub, he's not dissimilar a drawing of charcoal with the lines smudgy. Still semi-perfect as we all are. Still hers.

"Cal," she says simply.

"Mollie."

"I'm having a baby."

"I know."

She nods, again and again. Her eyes leave his and meet the long, winding road. It's lit with streetlights and peppered with bushes on the edges. She wants to run away down it. But she can't run from this. Her legs stay, firmly planted, on the metal of the bonnet.

Softly - softer than she's ever heard him speak - he says, "why didn't you just tell me?"

"Too many reasons. Not enough time."

Then, his hand finds hers. "Do you, uh, have a picture?"

They have to unlink hands before long, as she rifles through her handbag. When she returns, he opens the tiny stork card and stares at the grey and black image in there. Mollie remembers going to the scan alone, and evidently he's thinking the same, as he pulls her in my the waist and they embrace.

"I'm sorry for…"

"I know," he says into her hair. "And it's alright. I understand."

"Are we good?"

"We're better than good. We're us again."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

They turn up home, finally, underneath a pillow fort with thin sheets above them, when he decides he wishes to admit it.

Pretending to be children, they evacuated to this area because this place is filled with memories from where everything keeps going wrong. In here, nothing can go wrong. It's a place of peace. A place where everything goes right.

Rain patters against the window. "Mollie," he says. "I'm scared of being like my dad."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Not because he was a bad person. Because he wasn't, he wasn't bad at all."

Her hand finds his. The fan is blowing cool air, rippling the sheets, and this feels natural. They're children experiencing young love, and simultaneously they're adults expecting a baby of their own with messy, torn up hearts. "Tell me about him."

"Okay." Cal doesn't talk for a moment, as though he is writing out something mentally. Trying to get the words sorted before confessing anything. "He… he was a doctor. Maybe he still is. Lothario, you could say. Very clever, very good at his job, he took it seriously. He worked hard. And when we were young, he was good with us. I was a nightmare child - always getting in trouble, breaking things, I talked back a lot. He was patient. And Ethan, he was sensitive, always keeping to himself, and got bullied a lot, but my dad was supportive."

"He sounds nice."

"He was nice. At times, he was harder on me than I'd have liked. But he was guessing as much as I was. I don't believe in the notion that we're all born knowing what to do when we become parents. Sometimes he'd shout, sometimes he'd apologise, but he always cared. Always took care of us."

He continues. "With all his heart, he loved my mum. I know that. I know that it destroyed him, watching her go through that eating disorder. And worse, watching us go through the whole process of growing up whilst worrying about our mum. A burden a child shouldn't have." Cal seems alarmed. "Not that she was a burden, I just-"

"I get you. Don't worry."

"Good. Phew." He squeezes her hand, then goes back to average hand holding tight-ness. "I don't know if I dreamed it, the night he left, but… I think I remember seeing him for the last time. I was sixteen, I think. I remember he came into me and Ethan's room. It was weird, cause he never did that. Usually passed out on the couch after working or drinking, because he drank a lot when it got too hard."

"What happened?"

"He tucked Ethan into bed and kissed his forehead. I didn't hear what he said, but he sounded sad. Then he came over to me and I pretended to be asleep. He told me he loved me. My dad never does that, not ever. Next day, my mum was upset. We cottoned on eventually."

"I'm so sorry."

Cal shrugs, as if it wasn't painful. As if it didn't tear him up, like he never pined for the person he never had, never felt down on father's days, never spent countless hours daydreaming about what it'd be like if his family was normal. Like normality isn't a faraway dream.

"Ethan was in pieces. I was too but I pretended not to be. I acted angry when really I just wanted my dad back. I made a pact to never become like him, and despised any behavior similar to his coming from me."

"How'd you feel about it now?"

"I never understood why he left. Until now."

"Why?"

"This will sound dumb." Cal says. "I feel like, when you love something so much, you're terrified of getting it wrong. So you run away before you have the chance to."

"I get that. Rock and a hard place."

"I'm not _saying,_ though _,_ that he did the right thing. Or that I forgive him for it. But I get it, and that's more than I ever did as a kid. He loved mum but he couldn't help her. He loved me and Ethan but he couldn't take care of us, not properly, not without making everything worse."

"So he tried to do what was best."

"I'm scared of doing that," Cal admits. "I'm scared of being my dad. Of running. And I'm scared of getting piss drunk and stumbling in, passing out, ignoring my youngest son, who is struggling with maths homework and had been waiting for his dad to get home to help because his mum was too busy counting calories for tomorrow in the next room. I'm terrified of feeling the need to leave the person I once loved with all my heart. I'm scared of being a dad because it takes commitment and tough skin and so much more than I think I've got."

"Know what I'm scared of?"

"What?"

"Losing you. But most fears are irrational. This one is irrational, because I know you'd never leave. And if you did… you'd always come home."

"I don't believe that."

"Remember when it got really hard? When you thought one day you'd wake up and you wouldn't have a brother anymore?"

Cal holds her hand tight, like he needs the comfort the same way he needs to breathe. "Yeah."

"And today, I told you about the baby - that was hard, but you didn't run then, did you?"

He doesn't talk for a moment. "We… we can make this work, can't we? We'll be alright. A little family, we can handle it. Can't we?"

In response she cradles him close, like she wanted to that night in the hotel. His head rests against her heart. Where it ought to be. Where it should be. Somehow she manages to intertwine their fingers, her chin atop of his head. He feels like coming home. This is her home.

"It's going to be amazing," she says.

They fall asleep that way; shattered pieces of porcelain finally slotting back together. Glue tougher to break than before.


	37. 36: Broken Glass

**InfinityAndOne:** _Ah thank you dude - they've been tricky ones to write! Yeah, the spiral was so sad, just a lack of any hope at all. It's definitely good Cal and Mollie have sorted themselves out after a very rocky time together... it isn't undeserved. Thank you for your review and continued support._

 **Casualtyfandom1986:** _Haha, that made me smile so much when I read that! I'm so happy to hear that - hope you enjoy the next one, thank you for your kind review!_

 **casfics:** _Ah that's so lovely of you. I'm so flattered you like the simile and the way a paragraph was written. You've hit the nail on the head there. Forever thankful for your in-depth reviews. Glad to enjoyed chapter thirty-five, I hope you enjoyed chapter thirty-six and will enjoy this one too! Thank you for your review!_

 **20BlueRoses:** _Glad you liked the varying emotional-ness hehe (aw!). It would be so awful if the news had gone badly, haha, and there's been enough sadness of late. I'm happy you enjoyed that addition, father-son relationships are strange to write considering I'm a girl therefore unable to relate but it's so nice to explore. It really could go either way, when and if he's notified. Thank you for your support of this story and your review!_

 _ **WinchesterShaw** : Your review, fortunately, helped to kick-start this story again! I pm-ed you earlier, but yes this is still continuing and I am determined to finish it. Thank you so much for your review and I hope you continue reading._

 _ **a/n:**_ _left a huge authors note on "building bridges". i'm sorry about the wait on this one. it's a tricky story at the best of times but i hope u like it._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

 **9th of July 2017 (2 days later)**

Ethan never saw himself as an angry person. Cal always claimed that title. He'd toss anything and pull up garden tiles and throw fits just for a glance. And Ethan was the quiet one, tucked in the corner harmlessly, watching it unfold. He wasn't like that. He couldn't be.

Sometimes he wonders if his entire perception is skewed.

The nutritionist - Mr Hughes - didn't get the frustration. Not once. Not when _it_ was rising in his throat, choking him, all barbed wire and poison. Ethan was plain enough.

"I can't eat six meals," Ethan had insisted, on and on. The root of the anger - no control, nobody listening, no hope of neither occurrences. "I can't, it's too much."

And the nutritionist kept on saying, "yes, you can." Hiding a _'you will'_ behind a passive-aggressive front, tip-toeing closer to the border of frustration himself.

"They're not six _meals_ as such, just six times a day for eating."

"It's physically impossible, I hope you understand."

"No, it isn't. If it was, we wouldn't be suggesting it. Everyone has to. Especially if they're as underweight as you. In order to put on the weight, you must eat multiple meals and more calories. As a doctor, you understand this?"

"It's unfair," he splutters. "You can't expect someone to go from nothing to everything."

"You're refusing the nutritional drinks so you don't really have a choice, I'm afraid."

"There has to be another option."

"I'm not averse to a nasogastric tube if you're against the six meals."

"No," Ethan had insisted. "I said no."

"When I say six meals, it's more that half are larger, and the other half is smaller. Snacks."

"Can't I have three?"

"You're not going to hit your goal posts. You'll simply be maintaining, not gaining. And even maintaining is unlikely. We've got targets for you to hit, targets that will avoid your physical health deteriorate further."

"I don't care about the t-" he breathed in sharply. "I just. I can't. You have to understand that. I can't."

The nutritionist looked at him for a bit, and then he looked down. Scribbling in a notebook. Ethan noticed his own palms are sweaty.

"Please, Doctor," Ethan had pleaded.

"You know we've got your best interests on the top of our list," he had said, never looking up. "We are doing what's best for you. You get choices, as long as they're not going to harm you. I'm afraid it's going to be that we agree to disagree here and that you do as you're told."

He had bitten back a retort, so hard that it hurt.

Ethan had known he wouldn't get what he wanted and no-one would relent to tailor to the needs of someone as acutely unwell as he was. Like his brain was seen as so poisoned that he couldn't think straight. As a doctor, he had understood. As a person, he couldn't have even tried.

"I'm sorry," the nutritionist had said with finality. "The answer is no."

And that, somehow, was all it had taken.

The first thing he had thought of was pain. He knew it felt better when he was frustrated. He'd spent many weeks, waiting for a chance to be alone, to dig his hands into his thighs, knowing it'd make him feel better when everything else went wrong.

What is more dramatic, more relieving, more final than just one sweep and then feeling it all release? Just blood and metal rust and everything that he couldn't have, everything he wasn't allowed. Getting his way. Feeling what he's missed. It was a cure-all. He needed a cure to this, a quick fix. Scars would fade, he reasoned (now, with a clear head, he realises that this urge would fade also if he gave it time).

But he couldn't. Especially since he was under such close surveillance.

So the second option was to stand, to pace, to keep on insisting, "I can't," and all the possible derivatives. And incessantly, he was declined, until he felt like the conversation was simply humouring him.

And he was frustrated. So frustrated, and angry. Maybe not at the nutritionist, whose legs were legs jammed under the desk (the man was overweight, he was going to lead Ethan from one extreme to another… right? Right?!), the notebook pierced with scribbled handwriting. Maybe not at anyone. Maybe he just was.

He felt like Cal when he did it. Picked up a big glass vase and smashed it. Right on the joint of his knee. Vaguely, he had felt pain, but that was hidden under layers of everything else he felt. Water and flowers leaked onto the floor, petals squashed. He hadn't had shoes on so the glass sunk into his feet. He welcomed it.

Then he threw a book. Two books. Felt like there was no point in stopping, he'd already ruined everything so why redeem himself now? He wanted to tear pages out and bend the spines so he did, and it replaced the anger with guilt, but more anger kept coming, and the guilt kept coming as consequence; just like scars and blood are consequences of cuts, scabbing and bright red against pink skin.

He had shouted, too, barely registered the words coming out of his mouth. Every nerve was frayed and tetchy and he had felt embarrassment, somehow - a physical emotion, like he was wearing his skin inside out.

The nutritionist was booming and Ethan barely listened, barely knew where he was. Barged past the people coming through the doors, felt himself running like he was going to float. It had felt like he was outside of his body. He wanted to step out of the window and walk on air.

They grabbed him and he fought against them but he felt sleepy and dizzy and breathless - was he crying? Ethan recalls now that he was crying. It isn't quite tears but he's shuddering, unable to stop.

"Just exploded," the nutritionist had shaken his head, disappointed. At that moment, Ethan felt like a kid. Restrained from a tantrum, pulled in to time-out.

That was all he was - all he _is_. Someone fragile and tiny to be guided, and told off when he gets it wrong.

He got it wrong. Really wrong.

Presently, Ethan sits alone. He's been put in a room with foam walls and a fluorescent white light. No windows. No pictures. No visible metal on the door, nothing he could scrape his skin with. His grazed knees are up to his chest - because if he's going to be treated like a child, it seems fitting to sit like one.

He doesn't hit the punchbag in the middle of the room. Just slides downwards, against the foam wall. Exhausted, guilty.

He just wants to go home, but he knows it isn't an option. He's hindered himself; it's like he's an amputee trying to learn to walk but chopped off a second leg. Today shouldn't have happened.

He knows who he's angry at now.

Himself.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Agnes comes to sit with him. Her hand snakes out, silver rings and manicured nails. It feels too much like the past. _Mollie hunched beside him on the bathroom floor, stroking his hair, flannel to his forehead._ He doesn't take the bait. He doesn't say a word.

"What was that about?"

Shakes head, hunches shoulders. He's feeling childish, defiant. It shows.

"When you're angry, you don't need to smash vases to tell us," she says. "You can just… say it. We'll get it."

"You _won't_ get it."

"You don't trust us. Why don't you trust us?"

Shrug.

"Ethan," she says. "In my career, I have treated and helped to ease the problems of hundreds. In all these years, guess how many people died?"

He doesn't want to guess, so he focuses his eyes on the punchbag.

"Nine."

"Oh."

"I've been working here for ten years and each death felt like a chunk out of my own heart. It pains you to see these people grow and thrive, and then to wilt again until they die. They never know it's as bad as it is - until it's too late, and they'd give anything to turn back the clock."

"It could be worse, Agnes," he says, in reference to himself. Short-sleeved and scarred, his elbows pointy and sharp. His knees are still bleeding. There's glass in them but nobody has been brave enough to approach him yet to clean the mess he's made.

"Comparison is the root of all evil. A sprain doesn't stop hurting because your friend just broke her arm. It's relative. It's not comparable. It's not fair."

"I'm hardly at death's door, am I?"

"You don't see what I see."

"What do you see?"

She shuffles herself to sit against the foam wall. There's a whole body worth of space between them. "I see what's inside, more. Outwardly, you're pale, you're thin, you're closed-off. Everyone knows that already. But I see more. I see that you're angry, deep down. I think you're using that anger and frustration to try and play off the hurt."

"I'm not angry."

"Your brother told me you attacked him because he said something that annoyed you. Before anyone knew about your eating disorder, you got into a large argument with a good friend of yours. You ran away when people found out you stopped eating."

"There were reasons for all of that."

"I also know you're logical," she continues as though he didn't speak. "I know that you don't tend to speak unless spoken to, I know you're quiet. You don't like talking about how you feel unless you have to, you'll never reach out. You're afraid of being alone but you isolate yourself so much-"

"That's not true at all, none of it." Crosses his arms over his chest.

"-and you don't like being talked about."

"It's all people seem to do at the moment. Talk. About me."

"It's only because they care."

Ethan tips a shoulder, begrudging. "How do you know all that stuff, anyway?"

"Your brother and I spoke a lot before he sent you here. I think he was prolonging the inevitable. He didn't want you to go, not really."

Ethan is struck by unforeseeable, loving, sudden affection for his brother. "It's not forever, though. We'll see eachother soon."

"Will you, though? Ethan, you're going to end up in a different hospital if you get much worse. And I don't think you want that."

He rests the back of his head against the foam wall. The ceiling is unextraordinary and dull. The room is stuffy and cold. And he is not happy, but he is not quite sad either.

"How are you feeling now?"

"Not sure."

"Anger tires you out. Makes you bitter."

"I'm not angry at anyone here," he says quietly.

"I know you're not," she says, equally as gently.

"You're too... nice. Why are you so nice?"

"It's my job. And maybe I think you're a good person. Maybe there's that."

He smiles, non-believing. "I get this a lot, you know. People sidling up to me and trying to help. Sometimes I wonder if they're trying to help or just want the satisfaction of saying they cheered up the sad kid."

"I think more people have your best interests at heart than you give them credit for."

"You think of the world to be so beautiful and amazing but I've seen it, Agnes. It's an ugly wall hidden under a layer of paint and one squint reveals all."

"You can be angry at people all you want, Ethan. Angry at the world, angry at yourself. But it won't go away. You can punish yourself by pushing everyone away, but deep down, I just see someone who wants to be loved as much as he loves everyone else."

He shrugs, smiles - he can't take the seriousness, despite how he used to be. Always looking out for what could go wrong. Being careful, when everyone else would say he should loosen up. And he'd laugh about it; _I just want to make sure the door is locked,_ or _we can't all be reckless or they'd be nobody to turn the oven off to make sure the house doesn't burn down._

Agnes stands up. "I'm going to get someone to sort your injuries out. But I'll give you a minute first."

"Thanks."

"You know, you called yourself a kid earlier."

"Pardon?"

"Earlier," she says. "You said that everyone wants a chance to cheer up the _'sad kid'_ to inflate their egos, or something similar."

He shrugs, embarrassed. "Freudian slip."

"Right, okay."

"I'm a grown-up. I'm not a kid. I don't draw with crayons anymore or cry for my Mum when I fall over. It was a slip of the tongue."

"Alright," she says, and unlocks the door. "I'll leave you to it."

"Can't I go?"

"If I do that, I'll get a name for being a softie. I can't have that, I've got a reputation to maintain."

"At my expense?"

"Listen, you," she says. "You were the one who smashed a vase. Ad ruined several books."

"I'll pay for the damage," he says, guilty.

"I know you will," she says, and she's smiling. "See you in a bit."

He watches her go, groaning at the closed door. This is what he never got to experience as a kid - time-out. He always behaved too well. Adults would think he was constantly after something, but he wasn't. It was in his nature, just like it was in Cal's to… smash vases and things.

Maybe he's more like Cal than he thought. And maybe he's not as grown-up as he thinks he is. Maybe deep down, he's still just a kid.

Ethan sighs to himself and counts the seconds.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"We've still got some work to do with that one."

"Oh, have we?" Agnes smoothes her skirt and sits in her office chair. "Forgive me," she says, and fiddles with the lever, dropping it down a few inches. "I haven't managed to treat patients within a week of their arrival before, but I'm working on it."

Mr Hughes - clinical nutritionist of fourteen years, an esteemed colleague of hers - drops onto his own chair. Wooden. Stiff and uncompromising; just like himself, uptight. "In all my years, I don't believe I've seen anything quite like it."

"You've lived a sheltered life."

"I did so believe he was going to go for security's neck next."

"People get angry. Even you, Mr Brick Wall. We all explode sometimes."

"We don't all destroy hospital property in our crusade to express it, though, do we?"

Agnes chuckles and pulls up a document on her computer. "Well, I think we all have different ways of expressing when we're hurting."

"I think so too, but we can't let it continue," Mr Hughes says. "I'm making a proposal at the next board meeting concerning his treatment."

"Enlighten me," she says.

"No. You'll find out on the day."

"Go on. I'll iron out any creases in it."

"There aren't any."

"Tom," she says. Desperation kicking in now. "Tell me."

He doesn't seem happy about it, but he does. "I've thought that if there isn't a positive change in the next week, we're going to proceed with the nasogastric tube regardless of the patient's feelings toward it."

"Tom, no. That's not fair."

"He's being given the same chance everyone gets."

"It's barely been a week itself. We know that people deteriorate fast the minute they get in here. It's our job to slowly build them up again and let them trust us."

"But with the weight quickly plummeting, what other choice do we have? More damage will be done to his major organs, more than what's already been done."

"Listen," she says, standing, gathering her skirt and notes. "We're going to be patient. I'm not going to lose his trust and potentially traumatise him. It's a scary prospect."

"Then it'll be an incentive to start eating on his own."

"No, it's too soon. It'll be _'yes, I promise to be better and to eat alone'_ , and he'll come off the tube and proceed to be even harder to help. He'll just keep lying. There's a lot we need to work through in counselling."

"Like what?"

"Like his inability to separate his child-self from his now-self. Clearly, it was traumatic to watch his parent's eventual split, and his mother's eating disorder rubbed off on his own. High school is a scarring time in itself without _that_. It's something I think he's not even aware of, the obsession with the past."

"I'm not a psychiatrist, Agnes," he says. "I don't know this."

"Well, exactly. You can't make an informed decision concerning his treatment if you don't understand all perspectives. You'll only trouble him more."

Agnes clutches her notes to her chest and leaves the room, shoe soles echoing down the halls. And she hears from behind her:

"We can't be patient forever, Agnes."

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

One, two, three. One, two- head rush.

He rubs the forming bruise on the back of his head. He knows nobody will ever know it's there - and he hopes that this satisfaction of dull pain lasts. It's a substitute for the real stuff, like nicotine patches instead of cigarettes. He balls his fist, pummels it into his thigh.

The door unlocks and he stops, burning with panic at getting caught. A nurse comes in, followed by security.

He doesn't say a word the whole time.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

They don't expect much during the final meal of the day. And he doesn't give much either. Each bite feels impossible. He almost feels his body expand at the end of it. Knowing he's put on weight, he can just _sense_ it.

In the evenings, they offer a phone call to home. It's a last-ditch attempt to fix this thwarted day. Ethan still declines.

What on earth could he tell Cal? He'd have to tell him how he's let him down, over and over. He can't do that. He isn't strong enough. Not strong enough to break Cal's hopeful heart.

And he _especially_ can't call anyone else. Charlie is close to Cal. not Ethan. And anyway, he'd never understand. And he couldn't call any friends - assuming he still has any that don't hate him for the ignored text messages, the declined calls, the frostiness.

It just feels isolating. But he's done it himself.

He wants to go straight to bed but it's only seven. He half expects to be sent to bed early, but he's not a child - and they know that wouldn't be a punishment, anyway. To be left alone would destructive to him. He imagines he'll be checked on double this time - more late night disturbances, a torch shone upon him every half hour as opposed to hourly.

From the main room, he hears laughter and feels worse. He knows he can't join in. They'd never welcome him, not after what he's done. Maybe people would be scared. He just exploded earlier. Who'd trust him?

Instead, Ethan makes do to sit in a hallway, jogging his knee, waiting. Each movement burns calories. Tires him out. It feels like his leg is burning, as he pulls himself up, and walks up and down the hall.

Each lap of the hall will burn off the weight he's put on. He finds his head is spinning, his body is aching. Yet he can't stop. He has to, he needs to!

And so he continues, until the big clock hand has gone around the face once, and he is joined by someone, watching, disapproving.

"You could call your brother, you know. But this is how you choose to spend your evening?"

He feels sweat on his back, wanting to close his eyes and sleep. But he can't. He has to keep going. "Yes," he says to her. "I-I have nothing good to tell him."

"Listen," Agnes says. "I'm going to give you one last chance. Do you want to call home?"

"N-No!"

"Ethan, just concentrate on me. This won't help."

"It's walking, it won't do any harm," he says. "You lot won't let me do any exercise, won't let me… so I have to. I can't just let the weight pile on."

"It's not going to do that. You know it's not going to do that."

"Go away," he says. "Please go away."

"You look so tired. You've had enough of this, right?"

He stops against the wall, breathless and dizzy. He's shaking and lethargic. More than anything, he wants to sink into a chair, get his bearings.

He can't stop himself from it. Falls right into the chair, limbs burning. He finds that he barely has the energy to stand up again. Just crumples.

Agnes stands, normal enough to be still - not to jog her leg, to move anything, to make every movement a conscious effort to burn more weight off. Just stands. Just lives. Just survives.

And he wonders how that can be. Wonders how you can keep your head above water. It seems fake. How does she cope when something goes wrong? Is he just weak?

"Come on," she says. "You might as well get some sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Punishing yourself won't help."

"I'm… not."

"Then come on."

He does as he's told. Obedient, for one of the first times today.

Each footstep is exhausting. He says goodnight quickly and then falls into bed. Doesn't even bother to get changed.

There's no point in crying. No point of anything like that. He just wants to sleep.

" _Hush," says fire-year-old Cal, lips pursed, as Ethan sniffles. Their parents aren't home and the babysitter doesn't care that Ethan had a nightmare. But Cal does. He always does._

" _Don't go," he whispers._

" _I won't. I'll stay 'til you fall 'sleep."_

 _He lets Cal sit on the edge of his bed, smoothing his hair. Duvet covers gathered, held tightly to his chest. He nuzzles his head into the covers, and falls asleep, without a bad dream even on the horizon._

Ethan finds himself missing Cal like a part of him has gone. And he always did, really. When he'd disappear off, abroad, or just down the road. During sleepovers or during medical school, Cal's huge sabbatical to Ameria. Didn't even return a phone call. Ethan mourned the loss of him then.

He remembers that, back then, he'd give anything for a text. Just to know he's okay.

And the tables have turned now. It's him who's leaving Cal in the lurch. He promised he'd call yet he isn't. _Reminds him of someone._

But he can't call him unless something good has happened… can't let him down that way, he just can't.

He finds himself slipping into sleep. A resolution forms. A good one. Nothing like, _I'll take another pin from the board later, it'll help._ Nor anything like _I'll drink as much water as I can before they weigh me,_ or _I'll just refuse to talk about anything until I forget how to._ It's better because it's about Cal. And it's better because it breeds hope.

He'll make tomorrow better. This whole week will be better. He has to make it so. Must make it happen.

He'll make something good happen to tell Cal about. He'll get his brother back. And maybe he'll get himself back at the same time.

It's not hopeful, not just yet. But it's a start, he thinks, as he finally sleeps.


End file.
